


Whispers of the Future

by cywsaphyre



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-22
Updated: 2012-07-28
Packaged: 2017-11-10 11:14:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 37,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/465632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cywsaphyre/pseuds/cywsaphyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A step to the right and the future shifts.  A decision made and another future is created.  A hundred terrible endings and all the roads that lead to them; and Obi-Wan has always been able to see them all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bant Eerin

**Author's Note:**

> -Yes, yes, it seems I’m getting ahead of myself again and starting another new fic but you should know how plot bunnies are; damn hard to get rid of.
> 
> -My first Star Wars fic and I can’t call myself an expert on this fandom so here’s to hoping it turns out alright.
> 
> -This fic is inspired by JennMel’s oneshot ‘Hollow’ on Fanfiction. I don’t really know how to write oneshots but she’s managed to condense something that is usually made into a huge plotline into one chapter. It’s great; go check it out!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Summary: Ever since he can remember, Obi-Wan has always been able to see the numerous trails of possibilities in front of him. Not much surprises or scares him, not yet, and he knows people before he meets them so he doesn’t hesitate before introducing himself to the lonely-looking Mon Calamari girl in his crèche. They are going to be lifelong friends after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Star Wars...

Chapter 1 – Bant Eerin

 

  
 Obi-Wan couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t been able to hear the Force murmuring secrets to him or see the ethereal golden trails of sand spread out before him, dancing and weaving around as they laid out different paths to different futures.  He knew it wasn’t really sand, of course; sand didn’t glow and sing with the Force, but the way they shifted and swirled made it an apt description.

 He was only an infant when his parents gave him to the Jedi Order.  He could walk by the time he was one but even he didn’t know exactly when he learned how to talk.  He never had much use for talking when the futures he saw were more than enough to keep him occupied.

 Obi-Wan didn’t know he wasn’t supposed to see them, of course.  Not at first, anyway, and he didn’t always understand what they were trying to tell him.  But at the age of five, after he stopped a few crèchemates when they were walking across one of the Temple’s courtyards and, mere seconds later, a piece of the alcove above them cracked and fell down in front of them with a loud crash, he didn’t miss the strange looks they gave him in return nor the way they hurried away as soon as possible.  Obi-Wan felt somewhat hurt but he pushed the feeling aside, bowed to Master Yoda who was staring at him thoughtfully amongst the other bustling Jedi as they swarmed the fallen roof, before walking away as well.

 That very same night, Yoda visited him when he was sitting in one of the Temple gardens, having snuck out after curfew.

 “Gifted you are,” Yoda started without preamble, answering the silent question Obi-Wan had been contemplating in his mind.  Was his ability a gift or a curse?

 “But a burden too, it is,” Yoda continued, taking a seat next to Obi-Wan.  “Keep it hidden you should, or placed in danger you will be.”

 Obi-Wan shifted uneasily and blinked as one gold path dispersed in a shower of sparkling dust.

 “I don’t understand,” He finally mumbled.  He understood that there was good and evil in the world, that his gift could be used for evil; he had instinctively known this for a long time, but he didn’t understand why the Force had given him something like his ability.  “Why do I have it?  Why me?”

 Yoda pinned him with a contemplative gaze.  “Works in mysterious ways, the Force does,” He said at last.  “Destined for great things, perhaps you are.  Have this gift you would not if handle it you could not.”

 Obi-Wan stayed silent for a long moment before glancing hopefully at the Jedi Master.  “I thought Jedi could see the future,” He said.  “Can’t you do what I can?”

 Yoda smiled almost sadly at him as he shook his head.  “Visions, Jedi have,” He explained.  “Not always clear, it is.  But the ability to see the possibilities of different futures, only you have.”

 Obi-Wan frowned, tilting his head as the Force whispered and he caught a glimpse of black cloaks and yellow eyes.  “I don’t want it.”

 Yoda nodded in a confusingly satisfied manner.  “Then in the right hands, your gift is.”

 Nothing more was said as Yoda patted his knee before ushering him back to his dorm, slyly telling Obi-Wan’s crèchemaster that he had summoned Obi-Wan and kept him out late.

 Obi-Wan didn’t completely understand everything Yoda had told him but he kept his mouth shut from that day on.  There wasn’t much danger in the Temple after all, and the other kids thought he was weird enough since Obi-Wan was usually content with simply keeping himself company.

 But still, the end results of the futures he saw were mostly unpleasant.  He wondered if he should tell Yoda but the Jedi Master hadn't asked last time so Obi-Wan kept it to himself.

One night, Obi-Wan went to sleep and saw a girl with silver eyes and a shy countenance.  He saw the same girl growing up and becoming a Padawan and then a Knight and he saw himself beside her, laughing and talking.  Worst of all, he saw her pain and grief when her Master died and he saw her death in the midst of battle, fierce and resolute to the very end.

And when Obi-Wan woke up and headed down for breakfast with his heart aching and his entire being tired, he wasn’t surprised when their crèchemaster told them that they would be getting a new crèchemate that day.

But in the midst of classes, Obi-Wan let his mind wander down the one path that would lead to his future friend’s accidental death only a year later and fully tapped into the Force for the very first time in his life, letting his instincts guide him.  He didn’t hesitate when he snapped the golden strand and allowed the sands of time to fade to a mere possibility.  He would not let that future happen.

After that, he thought he had finally found a use for his gift.  He could use it to protect his friends, to protect all the things that were important to him.  But he was only six, and he didn’t really know how to go about it so he stuck to the closest events for the time being.  He had a Mon Calamari to befriend after all.

 

  
\----WotF----

 

  
 The Mon Calamari girl – Bant, the Force supplied helpfully – was sitting in a corner of the refectory by herself when dinner rolled around a week after she arrived.  There were no other Mon Calamarians in their crèche and the other kids tended to stare at anything new.

 She was picking at her dinner and not really looking at anything else so Obi-Wan gathered his tray and headed over to her table.  The whispers doubled but Obi-Wan ignored them and offered a friendly smile when Bant looked up.  The action was stiff and foreign; he wasn’t used to smiling, having never had much to smile about.

 “I’m Obi-Wan Kenobi,” He shifted his tray into one arm before sticking out a small hand.  “Wanna be friends?”

 Bant gaped at him for a moment, her salmon-coloured skin darkening subtly before she took his hand and shook it shyly.  “Bant Eerin,” She said softly.  “And sure.”

 Obi-Wan grinned a little and promptly sat down across from her.  Having never had a real conversation with anyone before, their exchange was somewhat awkward at first, but once Bant realized Obi-Wan wasn’t going anywhere and honestly seemed to want to be her friend, the chatterbox Obi-Wan had seen in various futures shone through.

 Bant told him about her home planet Dac in the Calamari system and the other races living there.  Obi-Wan hadn’t actually seen much more than a few glimpses of the planet so he listened with interest as she described the city she was from.  Bant was two years younger than he was but even at four, her descriptions couldn’t be called lacking and anything she struggled to relay to him was made up for with her enthusiasm.

 By the time dinner was over, they were fast friends and Bant stuck to Obi-Wan like a second shadow.

 After he bid Bant goodnight, Obi-Wan returned to the dorm he shared with the other boys in his crèche and took a minute to examine the threads.  He smiled when he found a few of the darkest futures gone, never to happen now that Obi-Wan had drawn Bant to his side.

 

  
\----WotF----

 

  
 “Obi-Wan!”

 Obi-Wan turned, a little startled at having anyone call out his name with such eagerness but relaxed again when he found Bant bounding towards him.

 “Morning, Bant,” Obi-Wan greeted, pausing long enough for her to catch up.

 “Good morning,” She beamed at him and took his hand as they headed down to breakfast.  “We have Force studies first, right?  I hope I do okay.”

 Obi-Wan smiled and nodded as Bant went off on another tangent, keeping half an eye on the immediate future for bullies.  He had managed to mostly stay out of Bruck’s way but the boy would always be a problem and he had one more to protect now.

 “Obi?  Do you know who our other crèchemates are?”  Bant suddenly asked, stepping even closer to Obi-Wan as they entered the refectory.

 Obi-Wan glanced around and most of the eyes that had zeroed in on them when they had walked into the room skittered away.  It wasn’t everyday Obi-Wan went out of his way to talk to someone but there weren’t many children willing to challenge him either.  He wasn’t particularly tall or big for his age, but his eyes, irreversibly weary from all the things he had already seen, always seemed an effective countermeasure against other people.

 “Bruck Chun,” Obi-Wan pointed out first, directing Bant’s attention at the white-haired Human boy sitting at one of the tables with a few others.  The Force muttered irritably in his mind and his grip on his friend’s hand tightened just a little as images of Bruck’s sneering face, his refusal to let Obi-Wan save Bant, and his fall to his death flickered through Obi-Wan's mind.  “He and his friends can be real mean, but just stay out of his way and there won’t be any trouble.  They’re not part of our crèche actually, but we sometimes take classes with them.”

 Bant nodded, perfectly happy to defer to Obi-Wan since she was still new, and even at six, Bruck had the beginnings of destructive arrogance already painted on his face, something Bant wasn’t too young to take note of.

 Obi-Wan listed a few others as they sat down at their own table before his gaze settled on a cheerful-looking boy sitting with a reticent Dresselian.  He tilted his head and watched the golden sand swirl.  The Force directed his attention to a tall bold-looking Knight standing shoulder to shoulder with Obi-Wan, and a cloaked determined figure, also a Knight, standing on his other side.

 “Garen Muln and Reeft,” Obi-Wan said aloud, gesturing at the table a few feet away.  “I don’t really know them yet.”

 He almost bit his tongue when Bant peered over at him with a curious look but she didn’t call him out on it and returned to her breakfast instead. 

 Breathing a sigh of relief and letting the Force fade to a hum at the back of his mind, Obi-Wan didn’t catch the inquisitive glance Garen and Reeft sent his way.  Instead, he wondered if he could trust Bant enough to show her his gift.  He was mostly sure he could already.

 

  
\----WotF----

 

  
 Bant couldn’t even begin to describe the relief and gratitude she felt when Obi-Wan had approached her.  She was the only Mon Calamari in her crèche, and while she wasn’t ashamed of what she was; far from it, she also hated the fact that she was already four and hadn’t grown up alongside the other children from near birth, not to mention being the youngest in her crèche.

 So it was more than a bit of a surprise when a Human boy two years older than she was walked right up to her and introduced himself before requesting her friendship with open sincerity.  Bant had probed the tentative connection she had with the Force, trying to sense even a hint of falsehood in his words.  In the end, it had all but shoved her in the boy’s direction.

 Admittedly, Obi-Wan Kenobi was a bit on the weird side.  He was kind and he really listened to her and never left her to flounder when she struggled with something in class.

 But there were times when Obi-Wan would stare off into the distance at something she couldn't see, and she hadn’t known him long enough yet to feel comfortable pressing him for an explanation.  Other times, he would look askance at one of their crèchemates like he wanted to say something to them, but as far as Bant knew, she was Obi-Wan's only friend.  A part of her was secretly pleased by this fact; it meant Obi-Wan had chosen her friendship over everyone else's and she found that she was quite happy with keeping him all to herself, at least for the first few months.  Obi-Wan might be seen as a bit of an outcast by everyone else, and maybe she was fairly biased, but in Bant's opinion, they didn't know what they were missing out on.

 And even though she had only started working with the Force, the one thing Bant was sure of was that it utterly _loved_ Obi-Wan.  Whenever she concentrated on her friend during a meditation session, Bant could almost hear the Force singing contentedly in her mind.  Obi-Wan was startlingly Light, more so than her other fellow crèchemates when she connected enough with the Force to feel them with her eyes closed, and she had absolutely no idea how it was possible.  Obi-Wan knew things; knew which hallways bullies laid in wait, knew when teachers would be a little late, knew what was for dinner even, and while half of her was itching to question him about it, the other half was ecstatic that Obi-Wan would trust her with his secret.  She was sure no one else knew, and she was definitely not going to be the one who betrayed him.

 Because Obi-Wan was her friend and Bant was determined to stick with him no matter how strange he was.  And she had to admit, if only to herself, that keeping Obi-Wan to herself was somewhat selfish, so, six months after she had come to Coruscant and befriended Obi-Wan – and caught him eyeing the Human boy who always seemed very cheerful and the Dresselian who always seemed overly shy – Bant decided to ignore the slight fear that she would be left behind if Obi-Wan found other friends and brought his interest in the boys out in the open instead.

 “Do you wanna make friends with them, Obi?”  Bant asked, glancing anxiously at the two crèchemates out of the corner of her eye before looking back at Obi-Wan.

 Obi-Wan turned to her with a thoughtful gaze, his blue-green eyes becoming a little distant in the way Bant was sort of accustomed to by now.  And then his gaze sharpened again and he offered a rare honest smile in her direction.  "Not yet," He murmured softly, and the Force hummed in agreement.

 Bant blinked but took the prophetic words in stride.  She was used to Obi-Wan's not-yets and not-right-nows.  “Then when?”

 Obi-Wan tilted his head, his eyes briefly flashing grey before settling on its usual ocean colour again.  “A few days.”

 Bant nodded and said no more.  Obi-Wan always knew best about these things.  But, she supposed, she could give her friend a few more months, get to know him a bit more, before asking him _how_.


	2. Garen Muln and Reeft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Summary: Obi-Wan is seven, eight, nine, and he understands the things he sees much better now. Which isn’t always a good thing, especially when he's stuck in a nightmare world and wakes with death in his eyes, and Garen, who isn’t like Bant or Reeft, just won’t take no for an answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Star Wars...
> 
> -Okay, so I’ve thought about it for hours and while I’ve read really good fics with O/Q pairing, I’ve decided that I can’t really see myself writing it at all so I’ve decided to leave that a father/son relationship. I think I prefer it that way much more and I don’t know what I was thinking when I made that decision. So, yeah, I’m keeping this GEN and this fic won’t advance to a point where there will be any excessive romance.
> 
>  
> 
> -I’m not going to go through every year of Obi-Wan’s life, that’ll be pretty tedious, but I will touch on the more important parts and the first few chapters will focus on him when he’s an initiate.

 

** Chapter 2 – Garen Muln and Reeft **

 

      Several days after Bant had enquired after the two boys – _future friends, brothers, comrades-in-arms_ – Obi-Wan stopped dead in the middle of a corridor on his way to class, staring hard as the futures spun.  The smaller frame of Bant bumped into him but Obi-Wan barely felt it as the Force urged him down a different hallway.

 

      “Obi?”  Bant’s voice was worried.  “Is something wrong?”

 

      “This way,” Obi-Wan murmured, absently grabbing her hand even as he took a sharp left.

 

      Bant didn’t protest, not about being late, not about what Obi-Wan was doing, and he spared a moment to marvel at the trust she had for him.

 

      But that thought was soon placed aside as they rounded another corner, only to meet a worrying scene.  Bruck Chun and five others had Garen and Reeft cornered, and while Obi-Wan had seen the towering broad-shouldered man Garen would one day become, the six-year-old boy was still very much the size of an average Human child.  Reeft was even smaller, and his thin stature wasn’t helping matters.

 

      With an uncharacteristic scowl, Obi-Wan prepared to step in, but before he could act, his companion was already jumping in, storming forward with a petulant glare on her face.

 

      His mouth closed briefly as the Force chuckled and the golden strands parted.  This he hadn’t seen.

 

***WotF***

 

      Having spent six months in Obi-Wan’s company and being subjected to his patient friendly demeanour for so long, Bant was no longer as reticent as she had been when she first arrived.  She was protective of Obi-Wan and he obviously cared about their two crèchemates so they fell under her protection too.  Besides, she had grown to hate bullies after a few personal run-ins with Bruck in the rare times Obi-Wan wasn’t there to help her avoid them.  Of course, Obi-Wan always seemed to know when she was in danger and she had only ever had to listen to a few cruel words before her pseudo-brother was there to fend them off with frigid glares and a stony countenance.  Bruck never dared lay a hand on either one of them after the first time he had tried and Obi-Wan had used the Force to knock him flat on his back.  Bant didn’t know how her friend had known how when their Force studies hadn’t yet covered it but he had agreed to teach her and she was highly pleased that she was now several months ahead of her other crèchemates.  In her opinion, Obi-Wan made an excellent teacher.

 

      “Leave them alone!”  Bant glared hard at Bruck as the older boy spun around to face her.  “Stop bullying them or you'll be sorry!”  
  


      She forced herself not to quail under Bruck’s derisive sneer and clung to her stubborn nature.  Just because she was younger and smaller didn’t mean she was going to let the boy walk all over her.

 

      As usual, Bruck dismissed her as unimportant and his gaze flickered over her shoulder.  His expression darkened and Bant felt Obi-Wan’s presence settle behind her, making her relax almost immediately.  No matter what the situation, Obi-Wan always seemed to possess a quiet confidence that made people feel like he knew exactly what he was doing.

 

      “Hello, Oafy-Wan,” Bruck started, taking a step towards them as his crèchemates crowded around him.  The bully obviously felt more secure with five others beside him.  “Shouldn’t you be toddling off to class?  Or did you get lost on your way there?  Force knows you probably would.”

 

      As with everything else, Obi-Wan didn’t get riled, which only incensed Bruck more, and Bant shot a quick glance at Reeft and Garen, the latter still standing protectively in front of the former.  A dark bruise was forming over Garen’s left eye and Bant shifted in agitation at the visible injury.

 

      She looked up questioningly at Obi-Wan who understood as he always did and nodded, and Bant quickly darted past Bruck and his friends to where her crèchemates were huddled.  She trusted Obi-Wan to watch her back.

 

***WotF***

 

      “You-!”  Bruck followed Bant’s movements but almost instantly met resistance when he tried to go after her.

 

      “Leave her alone,” Obi-Wan instructed, eyes darkening to a stormy grey as he slowly circled the group.  “Leave all of us alone.”  
  


      Bruck bristled, eyeing the hand Obi-Wan had held out with visible frustration.  He was the same age as Obi-Wan but this wasn’t something he had learned yet.

 

      “What do you care?”  He snapped, looking resentfully over to where Bant was fussing over Garen.  “I didn’t touch the girl.”

 

      Obi-Wan made his way over to his crèchemates, chancing a discreet once-over of the two boys.  Reeft was staring pointedly at the ground but Garen met his gaze evenly, eyes bright with a mix of apprehension and curiosity.

 

      Golden sand shifted and an older Garen replaced the present one, face crusted with blood, and Obi-Wan blanched, jerking away as the Force wavered around him.  He had never seen a future that close up and for a second, he felt completely disoriented as he struggled to get a firm hold of reality.

 

      Perhaps Bruck had sensed a temporary weakness because the boy, along with his friends, chose that moment to strike, charging forward and pushing Obi-Wan’s weakened defense aside.  Alarmed, Obi-Wan reached for the Force again even as he braced himself for a blow.  For all his knowledge of katas and martial arts from the futures he had seen, Bruck was still a lot bigger than he was right now, and applying his knowledge was more difficult than one would think.

 

But before Bruck could reach him, Garen had leapt forward and tackled Obi-Wan to the ground, moving them both out of the way of the oncoming fist.  Almost without thinking, Obi-Wan fell into sync with his fellow crèchemate and lashed out with a Force-wave just as Garen kicked at Bruck’s shin.

 

Bruck staggered, stumbling as his crèchemates crashed into him, and then all six of them were sailing backwards and away from Obi-Wan’s outstretched hand, landing in a heap at the other end of the hallway.

 

“You heard Obi-Wan!”  Garen piped up loudly, the arm clutching at Obi-Wan’s shoulders never loosening as he scowled at the bullies.  “Leave us alone!”

 

Apparently, the united front Obi-Wan and Garen procured was enough to deter Bruck, at least for now, and he and his crèchemates were soon out of sight, leaving the remaining four initiates behind.

 

“Obi!”  Bant was rushing forward again, this time hovering worriedly beside Obi-Wan.  “Are you alright?  Why did that happen?”

 

Obi-Wan offered a strained smile and squirmed a little in Garen’s grip, scooting away when the boy released him.  “I lost concentration for a moment.  Sorry.”  
  


Bant just shook her head, looking relieved, before turning to Garen sprawled on the ground beside Obi-Wan.  “Um, are you okay?”

 

Garen grinned good-naturedly and waved a hand.  “Just fine.  Would’ve been a lot worse if you to hadn’t come by.”  He glanced over his shoulder.  “Reeft?  You alright?”

 

The Dressellian shifted nervously but nodded silently, his gaze wary as he studied Obi-Wan and Bant.

 

In Obi-Wan’s mind, the Force crooned, content once more, and the golden sands in the world that only he could see calmed, parting to show four initiates learning and sparring together.

 

“I don’t think we’ve really talked before,” Obi-Wan started, offering a hand to Garen.  “I’m Obi-Wan, this is Bant.  Thanks for the save.”  
  


Garen studied him for a heartbeat longer before a wide grin spread over his features again.  The boy ignored the hand and clapped Obi-Wan on the shoulder instead.

 

“Right back at ya!”  Garen was warm and friendly, just as Obi-Wan had always known, and he tried to smile back and ignore the chilling image he had seen.  Death was nothing new for him; he had seen many people’s deaths, Jedi and civilians alike, but they had always been distant, like a dream, and he wondered, with something like dread, if the futures would only get clearer now.

 

Perhaps sensing his discomfort, Garen’s grin ebbed and too-perceptive eyes studied him curiously before waving at Reeft.

 

“That’s Reeft,” Garen introduced, reaching out to tug at the Dressellian’s shirt.  “My best friend.”

 

Reeft ducked his head a little, still uneasy, but he seemed to relax ever-so-slightly under Obi-Wan’s gaze.  That was odd in and of itself, Obi-Wan was used to people shying away from him when he looked at them.

 

“You alright?”  Bant asked, crouching down beside Reeft.  “Those stupid bullies are always picking on people and they’re not even in the same crèche as us!  Honestly, they shouldn't even be here!”

 

Reeft seemed a little dazed but offered a tentative smile back when Bant started helping him to his feet.

 

“You’re the one loved by the Force,” Reeft blurted out before his mouth snapped shut with a click.

 

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened in surprise and jumped when Garen elbowed him gently.

 

“You didn’t think you were the only one to watch us, did you?”  Garen crossed his arms.  “We were watching you too.  You’re very... bright.”  
  


Obi-Wan’s jaw hung open even as he grasped for the golden strands in the other world.  But the Force just laughed and he got the impression that it seemed to be prodding him forward, insisting he handle this on his own.

 

“Er... thanks?”  He tried, flushing awkwardly when Garen snickered in good humour.

 

“Don’t laugh at him!”  Bant leapt in, scowling fiercely at Garen who shrank back in surprise at the Mon Calamari’s sudden ferocity.  “It’s not like he asked to be.  Obi’s the brightest of all of us and that’s not a bad thing!”

 

Conviction underlined Bant’s words even as she reached out to slip her hand in Obi-Wan’s in a familiar gesture of reassurance and comfort.  Obi-Wan smiled gratefully at her and found himself standing taller as he tried to gauge Garen’s reaction.  He was fairly certain that if he pushed, the Force would give way and show him the various threads again but it was currently urging him to deal with this on his own and Obi-Wan had always trusted the Force.

 

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that,” Garen protested, holding up his hands.  “It’s just weird seeing Obi-Wan all embarrassed.  Pretty much everybody thinks he’s a statue when it comes to emotions.”

 

If anything, this just made Bant even more outraged.  “He is not!”  She drew herself up, which wasn’t very much seeing as she was the shortest of the four, and glowered at the sheepish-looking Garen.  “He’s my bestest friend!  Stop insulting him!”

 

Obi-Wan sighed and tuned out Garen’s next reply which only heightened Bant’s ire.  Instead, he sidled over to Reeft and said conversationally, “This’ll take a while.  Think they know we’re _really_ late for class now?”

 

This startled a half-laugh out of Reeft and finally made him look directly at Obi-Wan for the first time.

 

“Probably not,” Reeft smiled timidly at him.  “You’re not mad?”

 

Obi-Wan shrugged.  “’Course not,” He confirmed amicably.  “Though I don’t know about ‘loved’.  Sometimes, it doesn’t feel like it.”

 

Reeft studied him with somber eyes for a long while before speaking up again.  “No one can be as Light as you and not be loved.  I don’t know why, but the Force is always strong around you.”  
  


Obi-Wan peered curiously at the Dressellian.  “And you don’t mind?”

 

Reeft tilted his head, evidently bewildered.  “Why would I be?  You’re nice.  That’s all that matters.”

 

Garen and Bant had stopped arguing and were now looking over at Obi-Wan as well, warmth in their eyes and none of the hostility or distance Obi-Wan usually saw in other children.

 

He didn’t _know_ know Garen and Reeft yet but he knew them well enough, through the Force, through all the different threads – and there has never been even one future where they didn't end up friends – and he relaxed minutely.  For once, Obi-Wan decided to live in the moment instead of the future.

 

It’s a rather heady feeling as he finally reached out to friendships by himself.

 

***WotF***

 

      Garen didn’t know what to make of Obi-Wan Kenobi with his strange eyes and even stranger stares, always zoning out in the middle of class or meals.  But Reeft hadn’t seemed as wary of him as he did other kids and Garen always trusted his best friend about this sort of thing because he was more in tune with the Force than Garen was.

 

      He had noticed the glances directed their way of course; anyone would with Obi-Wan’s gaze on them.  He was pretty sure the boy himself didn’t know but Obi-Wan’s eyes always seemed to penetrate straight into the very soul of whoever he was looking at.  It had made Garen a little uneasy at first – he had seen Obi-Wan stare down Bruck and Aalto, silent and stony-eyed until both had backed down and he didn’t know what he had done to deserve the same treatment – but he had slowly relaxed when he had looked closer and noticed the lack of frigidity when that gaze turned on him or Reeft.

 

       Of course, that didn’t mean Garen could simply walk up and make friends with the boy.  He had no idea how the new girl had managed it; as far as he knew, she hadn’t done anything at all and Obi-Wan had all but taken her under his wing.  It made him curious and just a little resentful because Obi-Wan hadn’t made any attempt to befriend him or Reeft or any of their other crèchemates but had taken to Bant Eerin as if they had been friends for years.

 

      Resentment had proved too troublesome after a few days so Garen had sat back and simply observed.  Still, it wasn’t until Obi-Wan had cut in when he and Reeft had been running late for class and had gotten cornered by Bruck and his goons that Garen finally exchanged words with the boy.

 

      He immediately found out three things about Obi-Wan: one, his crèchemate was quick to protect; two, he had somehow earned the Mon Calamari’s unwavering loyalty; and three, yes, Obi-Wan really was as weird as Garen had always thought he was.

 

      In a good way.

 

      A run-in and mutual rescue from a group of bullies was a fantastic way to make friends and Garen was amazed at how easily he and Reeft slipped into Obi-Wan’s group.  They sat together for classes and meals and Garen found it ridiculously easy to get Bant riled up.  Reeft was too mild to banter with but Obi-Wan’s Shadow – as he had dubbed inside his head – responded to his taunts and made their exchanges excellent fun.

 

      All in all, Obi-Wan was a great friend – after class lessons with Obi-Wan teaching them how to manipulate the Force didn’t hurt either – and in return, Garen made sure to joke more often.  For some reason, Obi-Wan rarely ever smiled and almost never laughed no matter what Garen said, and it was frustrating to say the least.

 

      It was something Garen didn’t understand; even _Reeft_ talked more than Obi-Wan.  Heck, even their Histories teacher smiled more than his new friend and Garen was of the mind that Master Krranth wouldn’t know a sense of humour if it hit him in the face.

 

      But after a few months, even Garen got used to it.  Obi-Wan was quiet, preferring to listen to him and Reeft and Bant talk rather than join in, but funny enough, Obi-Wan never faded into the background.  Even as a child, Garen could sense his friend’s presence, strong and unyielding and always there.  He grew used to it.

 

      So, needless to say, two and a half years after they had all become friends, probably forming the tightest-knit group to ever pass through the crèche, Garen woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat because something was... _off_.

 

      Children eight and below were all placed together in two dorms, the girls separate from the boys.  Once an initiate turned nine and started more advanced training to get selected by a Knight or Master, they would move into smaller dorms of threes or fours.

 

      At the moment, in the boys’ dorm that Garen shared with the other five boys in his crèche and seven others from another crèche, even in the depths of slumber – and Garen was a _very_ heavy sleeper – the sense of wrongness snapped him awake faster than an attack on the Jedi Temple would have.

 

      He wasn’t the only one.  In the bed next to his, Reeft jolted awake, almost tumbling out of bed, and all around them, children surfaced from sleep whimpering and even crying as the Force twisted and churned.

 

      All except one.

 

      It took Garen all of a second to realize what had woken him – he had spent months and months adjusting to Obi-Wan’s bright existence after all – and he all but leapt out of bed, crashing to the ground with a yelp when his blankets got in the way.  He was up and next to the bed on his right before he could do more than draw a breath, trying to shake Obi-Wan awake, free him from whatever it was he was trapped in and _Sith damn it_ his friend was as still as death-

 

      He felt more than saw Reeft hurtle over to Obi-Wan’s other side, calling out to Obi-Wan as well as the _idiots_ around them wailed at whatever minor discomfort they were feeling.  Had he had time, Garen would’ve shouted at them.

 

      “Obi-Wan!  Obi-Wan!  Hey, come on, wake up, this is so not funny,” Garen babbled over Reeft’s softer but no less urgent pleas.

 

      There was a bang and their crèchemaster and several Masters stepped in, grim-faced and stern, but it wasn’t them that caught Garen’s attention.  Instead, it was the small figure of Bant, almost running into Yoda and his hoverchair in her haste to get inside and not paying any mind to the Jedi as she sprinted over to the three of them.

 

      “Obi!”  She shrieked, panic and fear painting her slightly paled features as she launched herself onto the bed.  “Obi, what’s wrong?  What happened?  Obi-Wan?”

 

      “He’s not waking up,” Garen knew he was stating the obvious but at least it gave him something to concentrate on as Master Kh’arst started calling for order.

 

      "Take Obi-Wan with us, we will," Yoda's voice startled all three of them, having not heard the Jedi Master approach.

 

      Bant's eyes, already at their widest, flickered to the two Masters standing behind Yoda - Garen quickly placed them as Master Windu and Master Giiett - and tightened her hold on Obi-Wan's arm.

 

      "This isn't his fault!"  She protested, voice shaking.  "He's done nothing wrong!"

 

      Master Windu frowned while Master Giiett remained impassive but Master Yoda’s expression softened as he shook his head.

 

      “Misunderstand me you do, youngling,” Yoda said.  “Get Obi-Wan help, we will.”  Seeing her rather doubtful expression, the troll continued firmly, “In trouble, he is _not_.”

 

      This confirmation seemed to calm Bant down at least a little and Garen shared a look with Reeft, who shrugged.

 

      "He's still breathing," Reeft said carefully, eyeing Obi-Wan in a way that suggested he was just waiting for his own words to backfire on him.  "And Master Yoda can help him."

 

      The unspoken _because we can't_ stung Garen more than he thought it would.

 

      “Yeah,” Garen swallowed hard and nodded shakily, looking up at the Jedi Masters.  “Can we come though?”

 

      Master Windu was already shaking his head.  “We’ll take it from here, Initiate," The Master said distractedly, moving forward with clear intent.

 

To his credit, Reeft didn't move aside immediately, staring hard at Master Windu as if he would be able to find any ill intent by doing so.  All the time spent under Garen and Bant and Obi-Wan's combined influence had raised the Dressellian's self-confidence like nothing else could.

 

It was several seconds later, punctuated by the sniffles and whines from their crèchemates – Garen found himself perhaps unfairly disgusted; the others didn’t feel half of what he and Reeft and Bant were feeling and Garen didn’t even want to _imagine_ what Obi-Wan was going through – before Reeft moved aside to let Master Windu near Obi-Wan.

 

Garen couldn’t decipher the expression on Master Windu’s face; he might be impressed, he might not.

 

But a minute later, Obi-Wan was gone, carried away to Force knew where and Garen settled down to glare at their crèchemaster when she made to usher Bant back to her dorm.

 

Master Kh’arst hesitated.  The four of them were notorious friends and, this late at night with the other children finally calm again, their crèchemaster was probably thinking twice about creating a fuss.

 

In the end, Master Kh’arst sighed and shook her head.  “Just go back to bed, you three,” She said at length as she waved a hand to dim the lights once more.  “You still have classes in the morning.”

 

As soon as she was gone, Garen and Reeft quickly pushed the three beds together before curling up in the centre with Bant in the middle.

 

“Do you think he’ll be alright?"  Bant whispered at the ceiling.

 

      "'Course," Garen said with more confidence than he felt.  He reached for the Force and was relieved to feel the undercurrent of calm return to it.  It wasn't completely back to normal but it was on its way.

 

      "Obi-Wan's just a bit... lost," Reeft spoke up now.  "He always comes back."

 

      "Why do you say he's lost?"  Garen demanded, raising his head a little.

 

      Reeft shifted, tugging the blankets up a little more.  "He always gets that distant look in his eyes, like he's gone off somewhere.  I just thought maybe he... wandered too far and forgot how to come back, is all."

 

      Garen didn't know what to say to this.  On some level, he supposed he had guessed something similar to Reeft's deduction but he had always left the thought at the back of his mind.  Now that he did think about it, he supposed he had been waiting for Obi-Wan to tell them himself.  They were his friends after all, weren't they?  And after everything Obi-Wan had given them – friendship, a place to belong, Force lessons – Garen wanted to be able to give something back as well.

 

“Reeft?  Garen?”  Bant’s voice washed over them again, tiny in a way that made their stomachs clench.

 

“What?”  Garen answered for both of them.

 

"If Obi-Wan's lost, how will he know how to get back?"

 

Garen opened his mouth to answer only to close it again when nothing came to mind.  He had a feeling Reeft had just done the same.

 

      Laying in the dark, Garen thought of their friend's crooked smiles and knowing eyes, honest kindness and a hidden sarcastic humour.  He thought of Obi-Wan Kenobi and imagined what he would do if their places had been switched.

 

      "Sith hells," Garen announced, throwing back the blankets and ignoring Bant's exclamation of 'language!'.  "I'm gonna go find him.  I don't think we should leave him alone."

 

      “We’re not allowed out after curfew!”  Bant whispered even as she sat up.

 

      “Girls aren’t allowed in the boys’ dorm either,” Garen argued back, cramming his feet into his boots and grabbing his cloak.  “And Obi-Wan’s been carted off somewhere.  If one of us had gone missing, he’d come after us too.”

 

      Reeft, probably the most level-headed one of them after Obi-Wan, had to point out, “He’s not missing.  The Masters took him, probably to one of the medical facilities.”

 

      “Great, now we know where he is,” Garen shot back cheerfully as he shrugged on his cloak.  He softened a little at their uncertain looks and assured, “Don’t worry, you can stay here.  I’ll just check up on Obi-Wan and then come back.”

 

      Without waiting for a reply, Garen crept out of the dorm, shivering a little at the chill in the hallway before heading in the general direction of the nearest medical bay.  Surely the Masters wouldn’t chance carrying Obi-Wan too far.

 

      He was just rounding a corner when rapid footsteps almost made him jump out of his skin.  Heart pounding, he whirled around and released a sigh of relief when Bant and Reeft came into view.

 

      “What are you-” Garen was cut off by a glaring Bant who was yanking on her own cloak.  Beside her, Reeft was struggling with a boot, trying to tie it and move forward at the same time.

 

      “Don’t think you’re just going to leave us behind,” Bant reprimanded hotly.  “He’s our friend too.”

 

      Reeft actually gave Garen a reproachful look as he finally straightened, squirming a little to settle the cloak on his shoulders.  “You’ll get lost going by yourself,” Reeft said, pointing right.  “Medical bay’s that way.  We’re coming with you.”  
  


      Garen scratched his head sheepishly but grinned widely at their stubborn expressions.  “Right then; let’s go.”

 

***WotF***

 

      “No change, Master,” Mace straightened from the bedside with a sigh.  “I really would feel more comfortable if we could bring in a Healer.”

 

      At the foot of the bed, Yoda shook his head sharply.  “Risk Obi-Wan, we must not.  Keep this to ourselves, we must.”

 

      “None of us have any idea what’s wrong with the boy,” Micah said from the doorway.  “What if he goes into cardiac arrest or something?  I know basic Force-healing but I wouldn’t bet on it to be enough if something serious happens.”

 

      Yoda bowed his head.  “Futures, Obi-Wan sees.  Powerful prescience, he is subjected to.  But in physical danger, he is not.”

 

      “And mentally?”  Micah asked skeptically.  “He’s _eight_.  Kh’arth thinks the boy’s a genius but if seeing everything that could go wrong in the future is the price, I’d rather he be as dumb as a retarded Bantha.”

 

      “And I suppose that’s a great way to get a Master to take him on?”  Mace asked dryly as he kept half an eye on the bed monitor.

 

      Micah snorted, crossing his arms.  “I’d take him on myself if someone hadn’t banned it.”

 

      He looked pointedly at Yoda who only shook his head again, looking as serene as ever.

 

      “Agree, Obi-Wan would not,” Yoda’s eyes settled on the still form of the initiate.  “For him, no other Master will do.”

 

      Miach grumbled something unintelligible under his breath and then almost started when the monitor began beeping and Obi-Wan started convulsing.  “What the hell’s wrong now?”

 

      “His heart rate’s sped up,” Mace reported, leaning over the monitor as he pressed a gentle hand against the boy’s chest.  “Master Yoda, I think he’s panicking.”  
  


      Yoda floated closer, eyes scanning Obi-Wan’s vitals before pressing his own hand against the initiate’s forehead.  A moment later, he had jerked back, a frown making its way onto his face.

 

      “Get through, I cannot,” He said grimly.  “Shields that rival that of a Master’s, Obi-Wan has.”

 

      “You can’t get through?”  Mace gaped for a moment before the monitor rose to a shrill screech and he had to concentrate on keeping Obi-Wan on the bed.  “Damn it, at this rate, he’s not going to come back at all, Master!”

 

      Yoda tilted his head, eyes closing in concentration for a second before turning sharply to Micah.  “Retrieve his friends, you will,” He instructed.  “On their way to the Initates’ medical bay, all three are.  Hurry, you must.”

 

      Micah barely paused to nod before he disappeared from view, Force-running back towards the Initiates’ section.

 

      “What exactly are his friends supposed to do when they get here?”  Mace enquired as he ducked a flailing fist and pinned it back down.

 

      “Lost, Obi-Wan is,” Yoda said evenly.  “Give him something to come back to, we will.”

 

***WotF***

 

      “You three seem to have misplaced yourselves,” Micah said sardonically as he approached the three initiates with silent steps.

 

      The children jumped and whirled around, looking guilty and defiant and just a little terrified.  If the situation wasn’t so serious, Micah would’ve laughed.

 

      “Master,” The Human boy stepped forward and Miach didn’t miss the way he placed himself in front of the other two.  “We’re looking for Obi-Wan.  He’s our friend; we can’t just leave him all alone.”

 

      Micah eyed the boy, privately impressed at his audacity.  Most initiates would be apologizing for being out after curfew, no matter the reason, especially if a Master had caught them.

 

      He glanced at the other two as they also moved forward to stand beside Garen, providing a united front, and he wondered if the young initiate currently in the throes of nightmares had a hand in it.

 

      “Come with me,” He said instead, gesturing for them to follow.  “I’ll take you to your friend.”

 

      Micah didn’t have to look back to know they were exchanging glances before a flurry of footsteps rushed after him, scurrying to catch up with his longer strides.

 

      “He’s alright, right?”  The Mon Calamari girl seemed to have forgotten all protocol as she jogged up beside him, her eyes wide with fear.  “You- You're not taking us to go say good- goodbye, are you?”

 

      Micah almost did a double-take.  “Of course not!”  He looked around at the three initiates and noted the worried lines etched into their features.  “He just needs a bit of help.  Great Force, why would you think that?”

 

      It was the Dressellian boy who answered this time.  “Obi-Wan’s always been right there with the Force.  But something happened tonight.  Everyone sensed it.  Something must be really wrong.”

 

      Micah glanced at the boy but said nothing more.  Most of the Temple had noticed the Force fluctuating in agitation but the children wouldn’t really understand and would forget exactly what had happened by the time they woke up again.  Yoda’s Force-manipulation around Obi-Wan would assure that.  But these kids seemed more in tune with their crèchemate and, by extension, the Force, than any of the other children.

 

      He didn’t have time to think more on it though as they rounded a final corner and ducked into the medical bay.  One look around told Micah that nothing had improved.  In fact, watching the initiate struggle under Mace’s grip, it had probably gotten worse.

 

      As the three kids he had brought darted past him, Micah wondered just what kind of future they would have.

 

***WotF***

 

      Amidst a sea of flames and bodies, Obi-Wan heard the voices first.

 

      He wasn't able to place them for a long while, lost in horror and grief as he surveyed the ruins of the Jedi Temple around him.  This was what had become of his precious home, crumbled and broken almost beyond recognition.  Blood was splattered on the walls and floors and Obi-Wan couldn’t bear to focus on any of the corpses, frozen in shocked despair, lest he actually recognized any of them.

 

      But above the screams of the Jedi now lost to the Force, Obi-Wan eventually picked out the shouts of other people.  At first, he thought there were others here with him, Jedi who had survived this massacre, and while a part of him dreaded the fact that _anyone_ would have to see this destruction, another part rejoiced at no longer being alone.

 

      However, as he stumbled around the scattered bodies on the ground, averting his eyes from the worst of the damage, Obi-Wan slowly realized he was alone.  In a sense, he had always been alone, but this was the very first time the Force had thrown him so deeply into a future-to-be.  He could smell the stench of the dying as if he was there in reality.

 

      Maybe he was.

 

      But the calls kept coming, urgent and slightly hysterical and Obi-Wan finally managed to put a name and a face to each voice.

 

      Bant.  Garen.  Reeft.

 

      And slowly, concentrating on their voices, Obi-Wan felt his surroundings dissipate around him, melting away into a sea of gold.  He would never forget what he had seen and he shuddered at the thought of more visions just as bad, but for now, he was on his way home.

 

***WotF***

 

      It was another three days before Obi-Wan finally woke up, curled on his right side like usual, and the first thing he saw was Master Yoda sitting on a chair a foot away from his bed.  Had Obi-Wan been less tired, perhaps he would’ve tried to least sit up, but frankly, he didn’t even feel like opening his eyes so he stayed laying down, only managing a feeble blink in the troll’s direction.

 

      “Feel better, do you?”  Yoda enquired softly.

 

      Obi-Wan managed a stiff nod but a part of him wondered, rather cynically, if anyone could feel better after what he had witnessed.

 

      “Apologize, I must,” Yoda continued, and Obi-Wan would’ve flinched at the defeated expression on the Master’s face if he had the energy to do so.  He had seen something like it once – darker, more pained - a few months ago.  Back then, he had only caught a glimpse of Yoda and none of the events around him so he hadn’t known what would put something like that on the Master's face, but after seeing the Jedi Temple in ruins, Obi-Wan thought he had a pretty good idea.

 

      “Why?”  He croaked instead, forcing back the fatigue threatening to overcome him.

 

      “Help you, I could not,” Yoda clarified sorrowfully.  “And help you, I _can_ not.  Lead to disaster, it might, yes?”

 

      Obi-Wan swallowed and took a grudging peek at the other world, the golden threads as vibrant as ever.  Yoda had guessed right, of course.  If Obi-Wan spilled everything he had seen to the Master now, there were dozens of outcomes that would lead to a bloody end.  Yoda would make choices depending on what Obi-Wan said, no matter how much he resisted, and the end of the Jedi would come that much faster.

 

      So, “Sorry,” He whispered brokenly, though he wasn’t sure if he was apologizing to Master Yoda or to himself, because the part of him that was still eight, still a child, was begging for a helping hand, for someone else to carry his burden.

 

      “Apologize to me, you should not,” Yoda scolded gently.  “Rest now, you must.  Better in the morning, things will be.”

 

      Obi-Wan might’ve laughed at that but sleep was already dragging him back down so he wasn’t sure.  He didn’t know how things could be better when he had an entire Order to keep alive.

 

***WotF***

 

      Another twelve hours of sleep and Obi-Wan woke up to find that Yoda was somewhat right.  He did feel better, if only because everything he had seen had settled into the back of his mind.

 

      And he supposed the fact that his three closest – only – friends were sleeping around him helped too.  Bant was curled up at the end of his bed, wrapped up in a blanket, while Garen and Reeft had taken up another bed, Garen snoring away and Reeft buried under several more blankets.

 

      The sight brought an unbidden smile to his face.

 

      He shifted into a sitting position, and Reeft, who had always been the lightest sleeper of his three friends and probably already halfway awake with Garen’s snores in his ears, jerked upright, almost taking a nosedive off the bed before regaining his balance and looking around with bleary eyes.

 

      “Obi-Wan!”  He exclaimed, scrambling out of the tangle of blankets and tripping over to his side.  “You’re awake!”

 

      Obi-Wan smiled, raking a hand through his short hair and hoping he didn’t look too much of a wreck.  “Yeah, I feel better.  Have you been here long?”

 

      Reeft shrugged.  “We had to go to classes in between but Master Yoda let us stay here when we’re doing homework or eating meals or sleeping.”  He glanced over his shoulder and then reached down to retrieve one of his boots before bouncing it off Garen’s head.  “Hey, wake up!  Obi-Wan’s awake.”  
  


      Garen yelped when he was hit, rolled to the left, and disappeared over the edge, crashing to the floor in a mess of blankets and flailing limbs.

 

      “Sithspit, Reeft!”  He swore as Obi-Wan tried to smother a smile and Reeft snickered.  “I almost like you better when you were quiet and introverted.”

 

      “How do you even know a word like ‘introverted’?”  Reeft retorted.

 

      Garen, still trying to untangle himself, voiced indignantly, “I’ll have you know I know a lot of big words.  Just because I don’t feel like throwing them into every other sentence doesn’t mean I can’t use them.”  He finally freed himself and sprang to his feet, his eyes finding Obi-Wan instantly.

 

      “You’re awake!”  Garen grinned, no small amount of relief in his expression as he vaulted over his bed to stand beside Obi-Wan’s.  “You’ve been sleeping for days but Master Yoda just kept saying you were resting.”

 

      “I was,” Obi-Wan assured.  “I’m sorry you had to spend so many days worrying about me though.”  
  


      “That’s what we’re _supposed_ to do, silly,” Bant’s voice cut in and they all turned to find the Mon Calamari stretching like a cat at the end of the bed before frowning at Obi-Wan.  “You're our friend; it’s our job to worry about you and take care of you.  You’d do the same for us.”

 

      It was said in such a matter-of-fact tone that Obi-Wan found himself at a loss to refute it.

 

      “You could just say thanks and be happy,” Garen suggested helpfully.

 

      Obi-Wan felt his lips twitch up again as he nodded.  “Thanks.”  
  


***WotF***

 

      “So what happened anyway?”  Garen brought up as they sat in their usual corner in the refectory.

 

      Obi-Wan paused, fork halfway to his mouth.  Across from him, Reeft and Bant also froze, eyes immediately flying to Obi-Wan’s face.

 

      A few hours after he had woken up, Obi-Wan had been released from the three Masters’ care.  He had sensed Master Windu’s uneasy curiosity but one sharp look from Yoda had quelled any questions for Obi-Wan.

 

      His time away had spread rumours – Initiate dropout, early apprenticeship – but no one had mentioned the Force in congruence to Obi-Wan so he didn’t really mind and his friends did a good job of fending away any unwanted attention during the first few days.

 

      Obi-Wan supposed Garen, with his insatiable nosiness, was bound to ask and ask first.  Bant had long since accepted his bouts of oddness and Reeft wasn’t one to pry, but Garen was nothing if not persistent.

 

      “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Reeft interjected when Obi-Wan continued frowning at his food.

 

      “Yes he does,” Garen insisted obstinately.  “Seriously, what if something like that happens again and no one’s around to help?  Not that the Masters were much help this time around.”

 

      “Garen!”  Bant hissed, keeping her voice low.  “The Masters did their best!”  
  


      “I didn’t say they didn’t,” Garen countered.  “I just said they weren’t much help.  We ended up doing more by just being there.”

 

      Turning back to Obi-Wan, Garen nudged him.  “C’mon, Obi-Wan.  Whatever it is you're hiding, it’s big and you're... you’re _drowning_ in it.  Besides, we already have some idea.  It’s kinda like that thing Jedi do, right?  Seeing the future?”

 

      Obi-Wan stayed silent for a minute longer, tracing golden threads and weighing his options.  He didn’t like hiding things from his friends but he couldn’t tell them everything either.

 

      “Kind of,” He admitted at last, glancing around to make sure no one was eavesdropping.  “But I see... more.”

 

      “More?”  Bant repeated in a hushed voice.  “So... clearer visions then?”

 

      “Partly, yeah,” Obi-Wan nodded cautiously.  “But I see... possibilities.  Of what can happen.”

 

      Silence reigned at their table and the absence of Garen and Bant’s usual banter made a few look over.  Obi-Wan pinned them with a flat stare and their gazes skittered away again.

 

      “That must be hard,” It was Reeft who finally broke the tense silence, understanding dawning in his eyes.  “You see this all the time?”

 

      Obi-Wan nodded, a rush of gratitude welling up inside him at the lack of censure in the Dressellian’s voice.  He glanced uncertainly at Garen and Bant.

 

      “I sort of already knew that,” Bant admitted, offering a reassuring smile in his direction.  “You almost always know what’s going to happen before it happens and you’re always prepared for anything.  Don’t worry,” She added.  “I’ll keep it a secret.  I think I understand why you can’t really spread it around.  It would... change things, right?”

 

      At Obi-Wan’s tentative affirmative, Bant nodded to herself as if he had confirmed a personal suspicion before shooting a pointed look at Garen.  Judging by the muffled yelp from the boy a second later, she had also kicked him.

 

      Garen tossed a scowl at Bant before rounding on Obi-Wan, who tensed.  “So that means you already have a good idea whether or not we’re gonna get picked as Padawans, right?”

 

      The whole table gawked at him for a moment before Obi-Wan choked on a laugh that was half humorous and half relieved.

 

      “A fairly good idea, yeah,” Obi-Wan agreed, smiling faintly at the excited expression on Garen’s face.  “But I won’t tell you.”

 

      Garen huffed in protest but it was more for show than anything else and he cracked a grin a second later as he bumped shoulders with Obi-Wan.  “Hey, you know you can tell us anything and we’d still stick around.”

 

      Looking from face to face and seeing nothing but acceptance mixed with curiosity, Obi-Wan could only nod, a little lightheaded with relief.  “Yeah, I do now.”

     

      And that was that.  Obi-Wan had seen, of course, in several different futures, how easily his friends accepted what he could do, but it had still made him anxious until his friends had reassured him.

 

      He didn’t know if Yoda would be happy with him if he ever found out he had told his friends but a little happiness on his part was well-deserved, wasn’t it?  For the most part, his friends never badgered him about his gift – except for who their Masters would be; they seemed to have come to the conclusion that Obi-Wan would look a lot less happy if they wouldn’t make it – and life returned to its typical Temple days with relative ease.

 

      Obi-Wan was pleased and content.  Most of the time, he was also happy, but he wasn’t looking forward to the Apprentice Tournaments in their early adolescent years.  He knew Garen and Reeft would be chosen and Bant not long after, but he still couldn’t work out how he would be able to get his Master – because there was no doubt in his mind who his Master would be; that was a universal consistency in all the futures he had seen – to take him on without the disaster in Bandomeer or any other place.  There were a few, of course, one of which required Master Yoda to bully his Master into it, but Obi-Wan would die before he let something as degrading as being forced to take a Padawan to happen to his Master so that was out of the question.

 

      In the end, if worst came to worst, Obi-Wan supposed suffering through Bandomeer wasn’t so bad.  Compared to everything else he had seen, it was practically a walk in the park.

 

**Finished!  Things will start picking up in the next chapter.  These first two was more introductory than anything else.**

**Leave a review please!**


	3. Masters and Padawans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Summary: Garen and Reeft are twelve when they become Padawans. When the Apprentice Tournament rolls around again a year later, Bant is eleven and becomes a Padawan as well. Obi-Wan isn't really surprised when he isn't, but his friends are, and the near-physical ache that comes with his Master’s dismissal lifts a little at their fierce support.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Star Wars...

** Chapter 3 – Masters and Padawans **

 

      “Come on, Obi-Wan!  One hint, just one!  The suspense is killing me!”

 

      With great difficulty, Obi-Wan kept his expression stoic as he gulped down some tea and ignored the fact that Garen was literally on his knees on the floor with the most ridiculous pout etched on his face.

 

      Bant and Reeft had no such reserves as they burst out laughing.

 

      “Garen, have you no shame?”  Bant gasped between giggles.  “You realize the entire refectory is staring, right?”

 

      Garen didn’t even bother glancing around.  “Who cares about them?”  He looked up at Obi-Wan again and pawed pathetically at the hem of his tunic.  “Please, Obi-Wan?  One little hint couldn’t hurt anything!  Pretty please!”

 

      “No self-respecting male should ever say ‘pretty please’,” Reeft scoffed.  “Then again, it’s you, so I suppose it’s only to be expected.”

 

      Garen tossed the Dressellian a scowl and clambered back into his seat when it was clear that begging wasn’t helping his case.

 

      “Aren't you curious at all?”  Garen demanded as he munched on a piece of toast.  His voice automatically dropped as the conversation wandered into The Secret.  “Obi-Wan’s probably got us all matched up with our Masters already and I don’t even have a clue who I should be impressing in the upcoming tournament.”

 

      “Just do your best,” Obi-Wan finally spoke up.  “You’ll both be fine.”

 

      A short silence followed before Garen burst out, “See what I mean?  He gives us little pieces of information like that but doesn’t bother being any more specific,” He lowered his voice even more, the previous indignant expression melting into excitement.  “So what you mean is that Reeft and I are going to get Masters this year, right?”

 

      Obi-Wan paused, spoon halfway back to his bowl of cereal.  Garen wasn’t going out of his way at all to hide his eagerness and even Reeft had stopped pretending not to care and was now staring hopefully at him.

 

      “You know this isn’t fair,” Obi-Wan remarked instead, features remaining neutral.  “Nobody else gets hints early.”

 

      Garen waved a dismissive hand.  “Life’s not fair,” He countered cheerfully.  “And they're not your bestest friends in the entire galaxy, so spill.”

 

      Obi-Wan glanced around the table.  Even Bant, who, at ten, wasn’t yet eligible to be a Padawan looked enthusiastic.  Dropping his gaze to his meal, he considered the other world and scanned the mass of threads stretching into the distance.  The Force burbled contentedly and didn’t seem at all agitated that he was contemplating his friends’ request.  None of the strands would lead to anything drastic either if he just... hinted.  And at the very least, it would shut Garen up.  His friend had been asking for _months_.  Obi-Wan was surprised he had lasted this long.

 

      Releasing a defeated sigh, Obi-Wan rolled his eyes as Garen gave a triumphant whoop and Reeft shoved his mostly-finished meal to the side with a wide grin.  Bant mirrored his exasperated expression but was near bouncing in her seat.

 

      “Alright,” Obi-Wan leaned forward and pitched his voice low.  “You know you don’t get the same Masters in all the different futures, right?  And there are a few you could go with in our current timeline.”

 

      “So leave the decision to us,” Garen suggested.  “Point out which Masters are considering us and we’ll pick who we want.”  
  


      “Or at least try to get their attention,” Reeft amended.  “If we try to impress them too hard, they’ll think we’re showing off or something and then we’ll definitely not get chosen.  We’ll keep them in mind but we won’t go out of our way to wave a lightsaber in their face or something.”

 

      Obi-Wan nodded in agreement.  Reeft had always had an easier time understanding the workings of his gift.  It was probably why he had all but forced himself not to ask Obi-Wan too much about who would be his Master.

 

      “Okay then,” Obi-Wan stood up with his tray, handing it to a nearby droid with a nod of thanks.  “Let’s take a walk.”  
  


***WotF***

 

      “Who do you have in mind anyway?”  Obi-Wan asked as they set off down one hallway.  “I mean, do you have anybody you want to apprentice to?”

 

      “I want to be a Knight Pilot of course,” Garen immediately announced to no one’s great surprise.  “So maybe an ace in the Starfighter Corps.  But a Knight or Jedi Master would be okay too, so long as they don’t try to make _me_ stay on the ground.”

 

      Obi-Wan nodded thoughtfully, the golden sands shifting as Garen spoke, the Force murmuring its agreement as Obi-Wan concentrated on two specific Masters.

 

      “How about you, Reeft?”  Obi-Wan turned to the Dressellian.

 

      Reeft shrugged.  “I don’t have anyone in particular in mind.  I’m not becoming a pilot,” He added, glancing at Garen.  “And I’m more Force-sensitive than Garen, so someone who can really train me in that area is fine.”

 

      Obi-Wan nodded absently.  Reeft was easier in that there was a wider selection of Masters that he would be happy with.

 

      “Bant?”  Obi-Wan glanced over at the Mon Calamari walking on Garen’s other side.

 

      Bant blinked.  “Me too?”

 

      “Might as well,” Obi-Wan nodded.  “You’ll be a Padawan soon enough.”

 

      Bant visibly brightened.  It was one thing to make assumptions from Obi-Wan’s cryptic allusions; it was something else entirely to hear an actual confirmation.

 

      “I actually want Master Tahl,” Bant admitted, her skin darkening subtly with a blush.  “She works in the Archives, right?  And I’ve heard that her knowledge of history and politics and practically everything that’s going on in the galaxy is unrivalled,” Her expression became wistful.  “I’d love to learn from her.”

 

      Obi-Wan nodded and let his attention drift to the other world.  In almost every future, Bant would be apprenticed to Master Tahl, and in almost every single one of _those_ futures, Master Tahl would die.  He almost suggested to Bant, right then and there, to forget about Master Tahl and concentrate on Kit Fisto instead.

 

      But Bant wouldn’t be as happy and Master Tahl’s death was all but assured without Bant’s presence in her life.  Perhaps it was somewhat selfish of him but ever since he had seen Master Tahl’s death and the grief she would leave in her wake, Obi-Wan had started planning as many different ways as he could to save her.  He didn’t want to look at Bant and watch her blame herself for her Master’s death.  And though he had yet to meet his own Master, Obi-Wan had no desire to see him even more burdened by the death of one of his closest friends.

 

      “That shouldn't be hard,” Obi-Wan finally said aloud.

 

In some futures, Bant wouldn’t become a Padawan until sometime after Melida/Daan – he was hard-pressed not to shudder at the very thought of that place – but there was also a large possibility that Bant would be chosen next year.  With his help, his three friends had come a long way since the beginning of their Initiate years, and with Bant’s natural brilliance in her classes, Obi-Wan was almost certain she would grab Master Tahl’s attention during the next Apprentice Tournament.

 

“She’ll like you,” Obi-Wan continued with a smile, and Bant grinned back happily at the hidden implication.

 

“Well, how ’bout us?”  Garen cut in impatiently.  “Bant still has at least a year to go; we’ve got three months, which reminds me: I wanna spar with you as much as possible between now and the Tournament.  You’re still kicking my ass around the training room and it’s been years.”

 

“You've been saying _that_ for years,” Reeft interjected.  “It’s not done you any good.”

 

Garen shot a glare at Reeft.  “Just you wait,” He retorted.  “One day, I’ll beat Obi-Wan in a ’saber battle.”

 

“There,” Obi-Wan interrupted before Reeft, or Bant for that matter, could goad Garen into another round of bickering.  They all turned to follow Obi-Wan’s gaze, concentrating on a red-haired Human female striding across the courtyard with a group of younger pilots.  “That’s Master Clee Rhara, an ace in the Jedi Starfighter Corps.”

 

“So she could be my Master?”  Garen asked, squinting at the woman.  “Rhara... She’s one of the Temple’s best pilots, isn’t she?  And she’s considering _me_?”

 

Obi-Wan smiled, amused at his friend’s excitement.  “She is, yeah.  You’ve done really well in the simulations and the Starfighter Corps always keep an eye on Initiates who show promise.”

 

“You show promise,” Garen pointed out.  “You’re as good as me in those simulations and you could repair machinery in your sleep.”

 

“Yes, but you know I hate flying,” Obi-Wan reminded dryly.  It was ironic really; in quite a few timelines, he had started out wanting to become a pilot as well but seeing his future self on a ship or jet and sometimes even experiencing it had put him off the idea.  Besides, he loved fighting with a lightsaber too much to stay in a cockpit.

 

Garen only jabbed an accusing finger in his face.  “You are an insult to Jedi Pilots everywhere,” He accused sternly, but the laughter in his eyes gave him away.

 

They continued moving through the Temple, cracking jokes and talking amongst themselves.  No one paid them any mind; the four of them had become somewhat famous with their grades in classes and their tendency to show up almost everywhere together.

 

“Master Giiett,” Obi-Wan suddenly spoke up, and their heads all snapped around to catch sight of the Councillor walking with Master Gallia.  “He’s the other one, Garen.”

 

“A _Councillor’s_ considering me?”  Garen asked dubiously.  “That doesn’t mean I have to grow up to be a Councillor, right?  I’ll probably end up driving them all crazy.”

 

“Nobody in their right mind would make you a Councillor, even if you grow to be as old as Master Yoda,” Bant piped up.

 

“Haha, very funny,” Garen rolled his eyes.  “I don’t want to be a Councillor.  I’ll die of boredom within an hour.”

 

He fell silent for a moment, a rare occurrence in and of itself.  “He knows, right?”  Garen finally enquired, glancing at Obi-Wan.

 

Obi-Wan inclined his head.  “Master Yoda, Master Giiett, Master Windu, and Master Gallia.  For now.”  Master Yoda had already known, the Force having notified the troll, but Yoda had also been good enough to ask Obi-Wan first before informing a few other members of the Council, just in case Obi-Wan needed help and Yoda wasn’t around to provide it.

 

“Hmm,” Garen said and a thoughtful expression surfaced on his features.  Obi-Wan knew, from both experience and his prescience, that it was best to leave Garen to his thoughts when he got like this.

 

They ducked down another hallway – Obi-Wan didn’t really feel like bumping into the two Councillors at the moment – and caught sight of another Master.

 

“Master Binn Ibes,” Obi-Wan murmured to Reeft.  “He’s a good match for you.  You’d learn lots with him.”

 

He pointed out a few others but Reeft seemed to have taken his first suggestion to heart and wasn’t particularly inclined to consider another.

 

Obi-Wan listened to the Force as it hummed with satisfaction, strong enough for his friends to hear it too.  He supposed that was why Reeft was content with Master Ibes.

 

“’Saber lessons in fifteen minutes,” Bant declared as they finally started making their way back to the Initiates’ section.  “Can we start with the fourth kata today?”

 

Garen and Reeft, who even at twelve were both heavier-set than Obi-Wan and especially Bant, made faces.  The aerial manoeuvres needed for Ataru were something neither boy liked, preferring the grounded form of Shien instead.

 

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at them.  “You do realize that our teacher absolutely hates it when we practice anything other than the first and third, right?  Sometimes, I wonder if I shouldn't have shown you the other forms yet.”

 

“Of course you should and you did,” Bant said stoutly as Garen and Reeft chimed in with their protests.  “We already know Shii-Cho, and we’re incorporating Soresu into the other forms.  There’s no point in holding us back.  Master Bondara’s just sour because we definitely didn’t learn it from him.”

 

“Still,” Obi-Wan shook his head.  He supposed it was disrespectful to some degree that he was teaching his friends things that were outside the Initiate curriculum but he justified it with the galactic war he had seen break out in _all_ the possible futures.  Teaching the entire class was out of the question so pushing his friends to be the best they could be would have to do.

 

“Still nothing,” Garen said adamantly.  “You made sure we could do the basics _backwards_ before starting us on harder stuff.  Master Bondara has no room to complain.  We always complete what he wants us to do before doing our own thing during free time.”

 

Obi-Wan nodded and said nothing more as they arrived at the designated training room.  While he had an extensive knowledge on every single fighting form in existence, applying it in real life still proved difficult.  He could teach it, going through the movements in his mind with his friends, but he still had to work hard to polish up what he already knew mentally, not to mention build up the necessary muscles and reflexes needed for each form.

 

As they started warming up, Obi-Wan thought of the upcoming tournament.  Garen and Reeft would be leaving soon but he would have Bant’s company for another year.  And then...

 

With a weary sigh, he threw himself into the drills Master Bondara barked out.  Sometimes, even thinking about Bandomeer and his future Master during their early years gave him a migraine.

 

***WotF***

 

      “They both offered to be my Master.  What do I do, Obi-Wan?”

 

      Obi-Wan twitched subtly and gave up on meditating.  It had never been very successful in the dorm he shared with Garen and Reeft anyway.

 

      “You choose,” He deadpanned.  “You wanted to do just that, didn’t you?”

 

      Hanging half off his bed upside-down, Garen kicked a foot into the air in frustration.  “I didn’t mean it like that!  Why would they both offer?”

 

      “That’s a difficult question,” Reeft frowned and struck an exaggerated thinking position.  “It couldn’t possibly be because they both want you as their Padawan.”

 

      Snickering openly, Reeft ducked the boot that Garen hurled at him.  Next to Obi-Wan, Bant spluttered with giggles at the irritated expression on Garen’s face.

 

      “It’s not funny!”  Garen snapped.  “This is why I asked Obi-Wan.  At least he doesn’t laugh.”

 

      Obi-Wan actually was having a hard time not laughing along with Reeft and Bant but he had always been good at keeping his emotions under control so he got away with only a slight upward tilt of his lips.

 

      “Why is it so hard, Garen?”  He asked instead.  “Look, which Master would you like to learn under for the next decade or so?  You want to become a Knight Pilot so Master Rhara is a good choice.  Her recommendation and expertise would get you where you want to go that much faster.”

 

      “I know, but...” Garen paused, brow creasing.  “I don’t know anything about Master Rhara.  I’ve seen her around and talked to her a bit and she’s tough but nice...”

 

      “But you actually know Master Giiett from that time in the med bay,” Obi-Wan finished.  “At least a little more than you know Master Rhara.”

 

      “Well, yeah,” Garen shrugged awkwardly from his position.  “Master Giiett seems pretty cool for a Councillor and...” He trailed off again, and Obi-Wan blinked when the golden threads shifted almost agitatedly.

 

      “ _No_ ,” He shot up straight, startling Garen as he pinned his friend with a glare.  “Don’t you dare pick Master Giiett because of me.”

 

      The guilty look that flitted across Garen was proof enough.  “I just thought your secret has to be protected,” He muttered, swinging himself back up onto his bed.  “What if Master Giiett-”

 

      “Don’t even finish that thought,” Obi-Wan cut off sharply as the golden strands writhed.  “Or Master Giiett won’t be an option.  The most important thing between a Master and a Padawan is trust.  Without it,” His eyes grew distant as the echo of his Master’s rejection time and time again – _never good enough_ – reverberated in his ears.  “Without it, there won’t be anything to build on.”

 

      Garen flushed and nodded contritely.  “Yeah, I know,” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.  “And from what I’ve seen, Master Giiett isn’t like that anyway.”

 

      “Good,” Obi-Wan relaxed again, flopping back to stare up at the ceiling.  “Just think on it.  This should be your decision, not ours.”

 

      Garen grunted an affirmative before looking over at Reeft.  “What about you?  Saw you talking to Master Ibes after the tournament.”  
  


      Reeft all but glowed with uncharacteristic pride.  “He asked to take me on as his Padawan.  I’ve already accepted.”

 

      The Dressellian received enthusiastic congratulations for the confession and by Obi-Wan, having already seen this outcome, suggested a celebration outside.  He had already had the droids prepare a lunch for them.

 

      By the time the picnic was over, they were all in good moods and Obi-Wan only felt a slight pang of regret as he thought of the dorm he would have to live in for another year, no longer with friends but either alone or with strangers.

 

      “You’ll still have me, Obi,” Bant stepped over to his side, slipping her hand into his in a familiar gesture.  “Don’t worry; I won’t leave you alone.”

 

      Obi-Wan managed a genuine smile at that.  For now, he would put the future out of his mind and focus on the present.

 

***WotF***

 

      “I have already told you I will not take on another Padawan, Master.  I do not understand why you have called me back to watch another tournament.”

 

      Yoda considered the man in front of him.  “Your apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi is meant to be,” He finally said, ignoring the flash of irritation presented to him.  “Shown me this, the Force has.”

 

      “Well it hasn’t shown me any such thing,” The man countered flatly, and then winced when Yoda lashed out with his gimer stick and struck him in the shins.

 

      “Stubborn you are, Qui-Gon Jinn!”  Yoda snapped sharply.  “See you do not, because see you do not _want_ to.  Blind, you have become.  Blind, you have always been, where Padawans are concerned.”

 

      Qui-Gon stiffened, the only sign of his ire, but before he could protest again, Yoda jabbed him in the arm and sped off.

 

      “Come,” He ordered, his voice brooking no argument.  “Observe Obi-Wan, you will.  A chance, you will give him.”  
  


      _Needs you, he does_ , Yoda thought sadly, ignoring the reluctance all but radiating from the Master behind him.  _And need him, you do._

 

***WotF***

 

      “Master, can we stop by the Apprentice Tournament today?”  Garen asked as he wolfed down his lunch.

 

      Micah glanced up from the datapad he had been scanning and smothered a smile.  Garen always seemed to have the appetite of a starved Bantha.

 

      “The Tournament, Padawan?”  Micah placed his datapad to the side.  “Why the sudden interest?”

 

      “It’s the last day and some of the Initates are going to get chosen by a Master,” Garen told him.  “I want to congratulate Bant and Obi-Wan.”

 

      “Oh?”  Micah arched an eyebrow at his Padawan.  “Sure they're going to pass, are you?”  
  


      “’Course,” Garen said evasively.  “I have no idea why Obi-Wan didn’t get picked last year and Bant’s definitely Jedi material.”

 

      Micah studied Garen for a long moment.  They hadn’t ever actually talked about Obi-Wan’s gift even though they both knew the other knew the truth.

 

      “Padawan,” Micah started abruptly, his tone making Garen pause.  “Why did you pick me as your Master?  You want to become a pilot, don’t you?  Master Rhara would’ve been the logical choice.”  
  


      Garen slowly lowered his fork, for once completely serious.  “I didn’t really know Master Rhara,” He said quietly.  “But I knew you.  Kind of.  You’d understand how important it would be if I ever told you Obi-Wan was in trouble.  And,” He coughed a little, cheeks suddenly tingeing with embarrassment.  “We make a good team.  I mean,” He quickly amended.  “I _think_ we make a good team.  I like working together.”

 

      Micah stared for a moment longer before breaking out into a soft smile.  “Come on,” He rose from his seat and ruffled his Padawan’s hair, giving the short braid a gentle tug.  “We’ll miss the whole thing if we wait for you to finish filling that black hole you call a stomach.”  
  


      Garen grinned, gulping down a glass of water before scrambling to his feet.  “Wait, I forgot my ’saber!” He called back as he dashed to his room.

 

      Micah just sighed in fond exasperation.  He supposed it was best that Garen wanted to be a pilot.  His Padawan would certainly be less forgetful in a cockpit.

 

***WotF***

 

      “There’s Garen, Master,” Reeft announced as he searched the small crowd.  “And that’s Obi-Wan and Bant down there.”

 

      Binn chuckled as they stepped onto the balcony overseeing the training room below.  “Go on then,” He nodded.  “I know you’ve missed your friend.”

 

      Reeft beamed at him.  “Thanks, Master!”  He bounded away, already waving, and Binn exchanged an amused look with Micah as the two boys met with an enthusiastic hug.

 

      “They’re good friends,” Binn remarked as Micah came to a stop beside him.

 

      Micah nodded in agreement.  “Those four have stuck together for years,” Their gazes flickered down to the arena where Bant was getting ready.  Obi-Wan was off to the side, the epitome of calm as he checked his lightsaber.

 

      “Boy’s got a cool head on his shoulders,” Binn observed.

 

      “Yes,” A sad smile touched his lips.  “Any Master would be lucky to snag him.”

 

      Binn glanced over at the other Master but didn’t pry.  Instead, a disturbance by the door caught his attention and he automatically nudged Micah as his eyebrows shot up in surprise.  “Micah, Qui-Gon’s here.”

 

      Micah’s head shot up, amazement warring with disbelief, which changed to realization before settling on something confusingly like pity.

 

      “Micah?”  Binn prodded.  “Are you alright?”

 

      Micah shook his head.  “I feel for the boy,” He muttered but plastered on a smile as Qui-Gon approached with Yoda at his side.

 

      Binn blinked, feeling completely out of the loop.  Micah was one of Qui-Gon’s crèchemate when they were kids and they were good friends as far as he knew.

 

      “Qui-Gon, back from your self-appointed exile?”  Micah greeted.

 

      Qui-Gon raised a sardonic eyebrow at him.  “Quite.  Galtea is nice this time of year, but I was called back.”  He turned to Binn and nodded.  “Binn, nice to see you again.”  
  


      “Qui-Gon,” Binn nodded back, gaze darting thoughtfully from Qui-Gon to Micah and then down to the boy.  “I’m surprised to see you here.  You don’t usually come to these tournaments.”  
  


      Qui-Gon frowned and glanced down at Yoda.  Binn mentally snorted.  So that was it.

 

      “Starting, tournament is,” Yoda announced peacefully as he floated over to the railing.  “Interesting, this shall be.”

 

      It was indeed interesting.  Binn did a double-take when the Mon Calamari slid fluidly into the fourth form and soundly parried each of her opponent’s blows.  He had been shocked last year when both Reeft and Garen Muln had fought with a combination of the third and fifth form but he hadn’t asked if anyone else had learned other katas during their Initiate years.

 

      “Does anyone know if Bondara’s switched around the curriculum recently?”  He asked aloud.

 

      To his surprise, Yoda released a quiet chuckle as if laughing at a private joke.  “Teach this, Master Bondara did not.”  The troll told them, but said nothing more.

 

      It wasn’t long before the spar was over, with Bant flipping over her opponent’s head before shifting and positioning her lightsaber an inch from his neck.

 

      To Binn’s surprise, after bowing to her opponent, the Mon Calamari didn’t scan the balcony like most winners did.  Instead, she leapt off the stage and made a beeline towards Obi-Wan, sliding to a stop in front of the boy.  Obi-Wan smiled and said something obviously congratulatory when Bant’s entire face seemed to brighten and she gladly accepted the hug the boy offered her.

 

      “Nice one, Bant!”

 

Binn turned and caught sight of his and Micah’s Padawans grinning enthusiastically.

 

Down below, Bant answered with a wave, though one look from Obi-Wan, half-amused, half-reprimanding, quieted both Padawans down with easy efficiency.  Almost as if Obi-Wan had said something out loud, Reeft and Garen simultaneously shot an apologetic look and a bow in a disgruntled Bondara’s direction.

 

Binn looked from his Padawan to Obi-Wan and put two and two together.  “Obi-Wan taught them?”  He asked aloud.  It wasn’t completely unheard of for an Initiate to know other forms; simply watching the Knights train would help in that regard, but it was rare.  “How is that even possible?”

 

“Extensive, Obi-Wan’s knowledge is,” Yoda said simply, his words somehow foreboding.

 

Beside him, Micah had that odd slightly gloomy expression on his face again.  Looking from one to the other, Binn thought it best not to ask.

 

“Qui-Gon, you didn’t tell me you were coming back so soon,” A familiar voice called out.

 

From behind, Tahl approached them, her expression warm as she greeted Qui-Gon and nodded at them.

 

“I finished early,” Qui-Gon replied smoothly, a small but honest smile on his face.

 

Tahl hmmed thoughtfully as she joined them at the railing.  “You saw Bant’s fight then?”  She continued.

 

“She’s quite good,” Micah remarked.  “Thinking of taking on a Padawan this year?”

 

Tahl grinned.  “You know me too well.  I checked her grades and spoke with her teachers.  She’s very interested in history and her combat skills are definitely above average.  I plan on asking her after the tournament.”

 

“Good match, you are,” Yoda commented agreeably.  “Same interests, you have.”

 

The next two Initiates were called and the group as a whole turned back to the arena as Obi-Wan approached the stage.

 

“This one’s very centered for an Initiate,” Tahl observed.  “Obi-Wan Kenobi was it?  None of the teachers I spoke to could mention Bant without throwing Obi-Wan in as well.  And two other boys.”

 

“Garen and Reeft, our Padawans,” Micah grinned, gesturing to the two boys several feet away.

 

“Good friends then,” Tahl chuckled at the intent expressions on their faces.

 

And then there was no more time for small talk as the battle began.  There really were no other words for it; Obi-Wan danced.

 

The fourth and fifth forms swirled around the arena as Obi-Wan moved, lightsaber flashing as it parried and attacked.  The boy was fire and water all at once, focused ferocity and fluid grace in every movement.

 

“The boy’s still an _Initiate_?”  Binn couldn’t help the note of incredulity that crept into his voice.  There were still some rough edges to smooth out and a Master would be able to help the boy raise his fighting style to an art form, but there was no doubt in his mind that Obi-Wan Kenobi would make a great Jedi one day.  “Why in the name of the Force hasn’t anyone apprenticed him yet?”

 

Nobody answered but Binn noticed a slight tension slipping into the line of Qui-Gon’s shoulders.

 

Obi-Wan’s opponent, Bruck Chun, stood no chance, and the match was over within minutes.  As soon as Bruck had yielded, Obi-Wan backed off and bowed, still as calm as before the match had began, before making his way back to Bant.

 

“Great job, Obi-Wan!”  Garen whooped from their left and Reeft joined in with his own congratulations.

 

Obi-Wan grinned up at them, eyes bright with adrenaline as he gave them a grateful nod in return and hugged Bant back when she tackled him with a hug.

 

“Well?”  Yoda’s voice dragged their attention to the tiny Master whose gaze was solely focused on Qui-Gon.  “What say you, Qui-Gon?  Calm and centered, Obi-Wan is.  Good grades and hard-working, he is also.  Good Padawan, he will make.”

 

Qui-Gon didn’t say anything.  Instead, with a curt nod of his head in Yoda’s direction, more a by-your-leave than actual acknowledgement of the Master’s words, he left without a backwards glance.

 

“Poor kid,” Micah was the first to speak.  “Master Yoda, leaving the boy to a life in the AgriCorps is... unthinkable.”  This was followed by a hard look that Binn couldn’t decipher and Yoda ignored.

 

“Qui-Gon’s Padawan, Obi-Wan is meant to be,” Yoda said gravely, turning away from the arena.  “One way or the other, make this so, the Force will.”

 

***WotF***

 

      As he strode down the hallway leading to the waiting area outside the training room, Qui-Gon tried to release as much of his irritation into the Force as possible.  Why did Yoda have to meddle so much?  Was it such a bad thing that he no longer wanted a Padawan?

 

      Slowing his steps as he neared his destination, Qui-Gon thought back to the match and grudgingly admitted that the boy was skilled.  But then again, Xanatos had been as well and look what had happened there.

 

      The boy was obviously confident in his abilities and that could lead to arrogance.  Obi-Wan Kenobi could become another Xanatos and Qui-Gon wasn’t going to take any chances.

 

      Stepping into the waiting area, Qui-Gon only had to wait a few minutes before the boy appeared, slipping out of the adjoining ’fresher with a towel around his shoulders and his outer robe over one arm.

 

      Icy blue clashed with green-grey and Qui-Gon found himself momentarily taken aback by how old the boy seemed in that one instant.  The look slipped away soon enough and he was left wondering if he had imagined it.

 

      “Master Jinn,” The boy’s soft voice carried across the room as he bowed respectfully.

 

      Qui-Gon spent a long moment studying him, reluctantly impressed when the boy stared back without hesitation.

 

      The silence stretched until Qui-Gon gestured to a nearby table and the two of them took opposite seats.

 

      “You are quite skilled,” Qui-Gon began.  “Quite confident in your own skill as well.”

 

      The boy said nothing, only nodding once as he brushed away a bead of water trailing down his temple with the back of his hand.

 

      “Overconfidence can lead to arrogance, which can in turn lead to anger when that arrogance is not satisfied,” Qui-Gon continued, picking up on the miniscule flinch that ran through the boy’s body at his words.  “A dangerous flaw in anyone wanting to be a Jedi.”

 

      “Is it overconfidence if I believe in my ability to hold my own?”  The boy finally spoke, each word measured.

 

      Qui-Gon’s eyes hardened.  “Is it not arrogance if you are certain of your victory before you even engage another in battle?”

 

      “I was certain of my capability,” The boy shrugged, an almost ironic motion.  “Sometimes, that is the same as being certain of my victory.”

 

      The boy was being honest but it certainly wasn’t helping his case.  Again, an image of his last Padawan floated to the surface of his memories and outwardly, he automatically shook his head.

 

      “I will not take you as my Padawan,” He said coolly, trying not to frown when something dimmed in the boy’s eyes, turning them to a flat grey as the prior ocean colour fled.  He waited for some sort of objection, but none came.

 

      “I see,” The boy said instead, and though it was a valiant attempt at sounding bland, Qui-Gon could still pick up a thread of hurt in his voice.  “I will be thirteen in four weeks,” The Initiate added almost as an afterthought, but those eyes had already turned inward, growing distant as if Qui-Gon had already left.

 

      A voice in the back of his mind that sounded suspiciously like Yoda scolded him.  Qui-Gon shoved it aside and tried to soften his words as he explained himself.  “It is better not to train a boy to become a Knight if he is too arrogant.  There is a risk he will turn to the dark side.”

 

      For a split second, the weariness returned and pinned Qui-Gon with a dull look of amused exhaustion.  And then that too disappeared and the boy bowed his head.

 

      “If that is what you believe, Master Jinn, then it must be so,” The boy smiled faintly at him, his expression strained.  “Thank you for your time.”

 

      Qui-Gon nodded and said nothing more, rising from his seat with the boy following suit.  But before either could leave, the sound of rapid footsteps reached their ears and the doors to the training room burst open, revealing the Mon Calamari Qui-Gon had watched in the tournament.  Behind her, following at a more sedate pace, came his friends and Master Yoda, as well as the two Padawans.

 

      Qui-Gon couldn’t see this going well.

 

***WotF***

 

      “Obi, you were right!  Master Tahl asked me to be her Padawan!”  Bant flew forward and flung herself into Obi-Wan’s already open arms.  Her surrogate brother caught her with a rare laugh, dropping a kiss on her cheek before setting her down again.

 

      “I suppose you agreed?”  Obi-Wan asked, smiling warmly down at her as she instinctively slipped her hand into his.  There was something slightly off about the expression but Bant was too thrilled to ask about it at the moment.

 

      “Of course!”  Bant turned to beam at her Master as the woman exited the training room.  “Master, you've already met Garen and Reeft.  This is Obi-Wan.”

 

      Master Tahl came forward with an outstretched hand and a friendly smile.  “You’ve got an excitable sister,” The woman said, a teasing glint in her eyes.  “I believe I’ve already learned half of your life story in the last twenty minutes.”

 

      “Master!”  Bant squeaked, her skin darkening.

 

      Obi-Wan just smirked at her before shaking Master Tahl’s hand.  “She’s a handful, even for me.”  
  


      “Obi-Wan!”  Bant scowled, looking horrified as Garen and Reeft snickered in the background.

 

      Obi-Wan just grinned apologetically at her before bowing a little to her Master.  “It’s an honour to meet you, Master Tahl.”

 

      Master Tahl smiled.  “I watched your match.  Wonderfully fought.  I was very impressed.”

 

      Obi-Wan smiled again, looking genuinely pleased.  “Thank you, Master.”

 

      Still high on her success, Bant glanced around and spotted the man standing several feet away.  Her eyes widened.  Obi-Wan had caught the attention of Qui-Gon Jinn himself.

 

      “Is that your new Master, Obi-Wan?”  She asked eagerly.

 

      Silence couldn’t have descended any faster and Bant’s smile faltered as the tension skyrocketed.

 

      “Obi?”  Her grip on his hand tightened as she twisted a little to get a closer look at his face.  His eyes were grey and completely blank like they were when he had had an especially bad vision and Bant felt her heart tighten.

 

      “What’s going on?”  She demanded, swallowing her panic even as her voice pitched high with anxiety and a horrifying suspicion slowly dawned at the back of her mind.  “Obi?”

 

      “Hey,” Obi-Wan tightened his grip on her hand and placed the other on her shoulder.  “Calm down, okay?  Everything’s alright.”

 

      “Well then things must definitely not be alright then,” Garen interrupted, stepping forward.  His eyes were completely serious and his entire body was tense.  “The last time you said that, you collapsed two minutes later with the Tanamen Fever.  How you could contract it when you weren’t even on Corellia is beyond me.”

 

      Obi-Wan smiled half-heartedly and Bant didn’t smile at all.

 

      “You’re going to become a Padawan, right?”  Bant tried again, looking for reassurance.  “We’re going to become Padawans together, right?”

 

      Obi-Wan said nothing, gaze averted in a way Bant had never seen before.  It was usually other people who looked away when Obi-Wan pinned them with his stare of death.

 

      “Bant,” Her Master started gently and Bant rounded on her, hysteria rising inside her again.

 

      This wasn’t supposed to happen.  Obi-Wan was supposed to become a Padawan with her, or at the very least, become a Padawan before her.  Obi-Wan was her first friend, her brother, and the best of all of them; how was it possible that he wasn’t chosen?

 

      Before she could speak, Reeft spoke up, his voice steady but hard as durasteel. “What’s wrong with him then?”  His gaze was focused on Master Jinn.  “If you are willing, could you please tell us what is wrong with Obi-Wan that he cannot become a Padawan?”

 

      “Reeft!”  Master Ibes cut in sharply.  “What is said between a Master and an Initiate is private; if Master Jinn has found Initiate Kenobi unsuitable as his Padawan, it is still none of our business.”

 

      Reeft fell silent but Garen did not, his glare fierce as he stepped forward.

 

      “He’s the strongest out of all of us,” He said vehemently, never flinching from Master Jinn’s cold gaze.  “How can we be chosen but he isn’t?  He taught us half of what we know and understands the Force like no one else.  He’s the _best_ of all of us!”

 

      Oddly enough, Master Giiett didn’t say a word to reprimand his Padawan.  Instead, he was staring woodenly at Qui-Gon, a troubled frown creasing his brow.

 

      “Garen, that’s enough,” It was Obi-Wan who stepped in, a warning in his voice.

 

      “Obi-”

 

      “Garen,” This time, the warning was accompanied by a stern look and Garen slumped in defeat, an undercurrent of anger still clenched in his fists.

 

      “We are supposed to be celebrating,” Obi-Wan announced, and even Master Yoda looked incredulous.

 

      Obi-Wan merely released Bant’s hand and slung an arm around her shoulders.  “We’ve got a new Padawan!”  He smiled, the action somehow reaching his eyes.  “We can pick up some food from the refectory and then go for a picnic, just like last year.”

 

      “Obi,” Bant whispered, heart aching.  Obi-Wan hadn’t been chosen which meant he would be sent to the AgriCorps to grow crops, with no freedom to travel and no one to spar with.  What kind of living was that for someone like Obi-Wan?  He would be better off _dead_.

 

      “Come on,” Obi-Wan muttered roughly, his arm tightening around her, and it dawned on Bant that maybe her brother just wanted to be alone with them, away from a Master who had refused him for no good reason.

 

      She bit her lip and then nodded.  “’Kay,” She agreed quietly before glancing at her new Master, the happiness from before barely there anymore.  “Master...”

 

      Master Tahl nodded.  “I’ll see you later, Padawan.”

 

      “You too, Garen,” Master Giiett spoke up before Garen could open his mouth.  “You have the rest of the day to yourself.”

 

      Master Ibes nodded in agreement when Reeft looked at him and the two boys were instantly at Obi-Wan’s side, surrounding him almost protectively before they headed for the door, leaving behind the almost palpable tension between the remaining occupants in the room.

 

***WotF***

 

      “I think Reeft brought up a good question,” Micah immediately spoke up as soon as the children disappeared from view.  “What _is_ wrong with Initiate Kenobi?”

 

      Qui-Gon’s stare could’ve burned holes through him but Micah didn’t look away.

 

“That boy is everything a Padawan should be,” He continued.  “A good tenure as an Initate, eager to learn, and respectful of you,” He jabbed a finger at one of the windows between the waiting area and the training room.  “I was watching.”

 

“It was private, Micah,” Qui-Gon said frigidly.

 

“Then you shouldn't have reamed him out in such a public place,” Micah retorted.  He knew it didn’t really work that way.  Binn was right; what happened between a Master and an Initiate was private, but all he could think of was Obi-Wan’s gift, his haunted eyes after a particularly bad vision, and the disappointed pain he had tried so hard to hide from them all after Qui-Gon’s rejection.

 

“Enough,” Yoda finally cut in, uncharacteristically brusque.  “Discuss this more, we will not.  Reprimand Qui-Gon, you will _not_ , Micah.”

 

The troll turned neutral eyes onto Qui-Gon.  “And Qui-Gon,” Yoda paused and it felt like even Qui-Gon was holding his breath.

 

“Mission for you, I have.”  He ended serenely before turning his hoverchair and heading for the door, leaving a rather flabbergasted crowd beside him.

 

***WotF***

 

      “Pairbond with us,” Garen said bluntly as they gathered in Obi-Wan’s dorm room that night.

 

      Obi-Wan glanced up absently, unsurprised.  “Do you know how?”

 

      “I asked Master Micah about it,” Garen nodded.  “I was already planning to when you two made-” He cut himself off abruptly before starting again.  “Yeah, I know how.  So does Reeft.  And it should be easy with you, so we’ll have one between all of us.”

 

      Obi-Wan managed a weak smile as they clasped hands.  Touching the Force, he reached out for Garen’s mind as Garen reached out for his.  The pairbond formed easily, as if it had simply been waiting to form, and the rush of emotions as the bridge completed glowed brightly between them.

 

      Obi-Wan quickly did the same with the others, and they formed their own bonds until they each had three pairbonds anchored in their minds.

 

      “Will it reach all the way to Ban- Bandomeer?”  Bant asked anxiously.

 

      “Not at first,” Obi-Wan shrugged.  “None of us are strong enough, but I don’t think it'll be necessary.”

 

      “Not necessary?”  Reeft echoed.  “You’re going halfway around the galaxy!  We’ll never-”

 

      Obi-Wan sighed, searching the threads to find any harm in what he would reveal.

 

      “How can I be anything other than a Jedi?”  He asked softly, finally managing an honest smile as three heads snapped up to look at him.  “I won’t be there forever.  I’ll come back.”  
  


      “Promise?”  Bant demanded.  “You’re not just saying that to be nice?  It will actually happen?”

 

      “Yes,” Obi-Wan said firmly, and his three friends visibly relaxed.

 

      When Obi-Wan said things like that, simple platitudes that really shouldn't mean so much, they rang with the conviction of truth.

 

**Finished!  Hope everyone was relatively in character.  Bandomeer coming up next.**

**Leave a review on your way out:)**


	4. Obstacles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Summary: Obi-Wan has no Master, so, off to Bandomeer he goes. But on the way there, waylaid by pirates and Hutts and draigons, can he get through to Qui-Gon in time to pull a successful trip out of the entire mess?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Star Wars...
> 
>  
> 
> Query Post:
> 
>  
> 
> -Splitting the Bandomeer arc into two chapters. This is the first.

** Chapter 4 – Obstacles **

 

      The _Monument_ was just as cramped and dirty as Obi-Wan had seen it to be and he stil couldn’t help raising a skeptical eyebrow at the crate-shaped Corellian barge docked in front of him.  If he hadn’t already seen it happen, he would’ve been amazed to learn that this ship could possibly reach any destination at all.

 

      As he watched a number of Hutts, Arconans, and Whiphids scurry on and off the barge with various pieces of equipment, the Force murmured a warning and the threads parted to show the small party heading his way.  Strange; most futures showed him boarding alone and not bumping into is Master until they had taken off.

 

      “Obi-Wan!”

 

      Obi-Wan turned at Garen’s shout, smiling when Bant’s voice chirped a greeting through their pairbond.  Of the three, Bant had taken to the pairbond with the most enthusiasm, curious about it in a way that reminded Obi-Wan of a cat.

 

      “I wasn’t expecting you,” Obi-Wan called back as the procession approached.

 

      Garen, Reeft, and Bant were running ahead of the rest, Master Giiett, Master Tahl, Master Ibes, and his own Master following behind.  Obi-Wan couldn’t decide whether to be happy or sad that Qui-Gon was here but obviously wouldn’t have been if Master Tahl’s arm wasn’t looped around his in a clear attempt to keep him there.

 

      “We couldn’t let you go without seeing you off,” Reeft said, concern running through their pairbond as they came to a stop in front of him.

 

      Obi-Wan managed a wry smile and sent back a soothing assurance through all three pairbonds.

 

      “I see,” He said out loud, turning to bow to the Masters when they reached them.  “Good morning, Masters.”

 

      “Hell of a morning, you mean,” Master Giiett cracked a wide yawn but the amused glint in his eyes softened the barb in his words.  “Garen was awake at the crack of dawn and bouncing off the walls.  Which reminds me,” He shot his Padawan a stern look.  “I’m dumping all the caf as soon as we get back.”

 

      Garen turned a betrayed look onto his Master.  “You're as bad as Obi-Wan!”

 

      When Master Giiett raised a questioning eyebrow at him, Obi-Wan explained, “Garen discovered the wonders of caf when he was nine.  After the first month and our crèchemaster telling us that he wouldn’t be paying for anymore damages to our dorm, I got the refectory droids to only serve him caf once every three weeks.”

 

      “ _Once_ every three weeks,” Garen repeated indignantly.  “You act like my _mom_.”

 

      “Someone’s got to be,” Obi-Wan retorted good-naturedly as he glanced at Bant.  “Bant just laughs when our dorm looks like the inside of a garbage dump.”  
  


      Bant grinned.  “ _I_ didn’t have to live with you.  And it was always fun to watch you boys pick up clothes for half an hour after Garen tears the room apart.”

 

      “Fun for you maybe,” Reeft grumbled.  “He tore three of my tunics before Obi-Wan put a stop to it.”

 

      While Qui-Gon remained silent, the other three Masters had no such qualms and joined in laughing.

 

      “Once every three weeks,” Master Giiett nodded.  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

      “Master!”  Garen wailed before rounding on Obi-Wan.  “You have no heart!”  He accused dramatically.

 

      Obi-Wan snorted and deadpanned, “Of course not.  Whatever gave you the idea that I did?”

 

      Whatever response Garen had was lost when the bellow of a horn came from the barge behind them.

 

      “Ah, time to go,” Obi-Wan reached down to pick up the satchel at his feet, ignoring the plummet of half-forced good humour around him.  He almost staggered when Bant tackled him with a tight hug but managed to wrap an arm around her waist at the last second.

 

      “Contact us when you get there?”  Bant’s voice shook with suppressed tears but she seemed determined to see him off with a smile.

 

      “I’ll get my hands on a comlink if it kills me,” Obi-Wan promised as he received hugs from Garen and Reeft as well.

 

      “And we’ll keep trying to get through,” Garen said cryptically as his hand reached up to brush the side of his head.

 

      Obi-Wan nodded, bowed to his friends’ Masters, and then it was time to go.

 

      It was harder than Obi-Wan thought it would be as he silently followed Qui-Gon onto the _Monument_.  He had seen this moment for years and yet, leaving behind everything he had known, really known, for the past twelve years made him feel tired and pained.

 

      “I trust you can find your cabin?”  Qui-Gon’s voice interrupted his thoughts and Obi-Wan had to force himself not to wince as chilly blue eyes gazed down at him.

 

      “Yes, Master Jinn,” Obi-Wan sketched a quick bow before taking off into the interior of the ship.  Being alone seemed a good way to regain his equilibrium.

 

      And plan for the upcoming pirate attack.

 

***WotF***

 

      Obi-Wan settled in well enough, spending the first few hours in space meditating on his bunk.  Meditation always came easily to him, the Force calming him like nothing else could as he sank into its depths.

 

      It was the restless shifting of the sands in the other world that finally stirred him.  Opening his eyes, Obi-Wan considered his options.  Clat’Ha and Jemba were about to butt heads but Qui-Gon was more than a match for both of them.

 

      In the end, he slid off the makeshift bed and ducked out of his cabin anyway.  He couldn’t stay in his room for the entire trip and maybe a walk around would make him forget the slight nausea he had felt upon boarding the ship.  He wondered if it was a drawback for a Jedi to hate flying as much as he did.

 

      Another ten minutes of wandering around eventually led him down to where the Force was roiling anyway and even from this distance, Obi-Wan could make out the raised voices of two different people.

 

      “-certainly didn’t frame you!  Your lies are as pathetic as your denials!”

 

      Obi-Wan didn’t bother speeding up as an enraged roar followed that – rather accurate – accusation and the sound of something cracking reached his ears.

 

      Qui-Gon’s use of the Force reached him and Obi-Wan found himself calming even further under the Master’s will.

 

      By the time he reached the room where the confrontation had taken place, Jemba was already turning around, expression still infuriated.  His eyes landed on Obi-Wan as he stepped into the room and instant suspicion coupled with a near-hidden slyness crept into his features.

 

      “And who are you, slug?”  Jemba demanded, moving forward threateningly.  “You’re not wearing a ship’s uniform and you're not Offworld.  You could’ve sabotaged the equipment!”

 

      One hand shot out to grab him and Obi-Wan felt more than heard Qui-Gon’s sharp warning.  He knew it wasn’t out of any particular concern for him personally but it still lightened the burden he had been feeling ever since Qui-Gon had rejected him.

 

      Obi-Wan didn’t duck or shout in alarm as the hand shot towards him.  Instead, he erected a Force-shield with barely a blink, tilting his head to the side as the Hutt’s hand glanced off the invisible wall.

 

      The sudden hush in the room was more out of shock than anything else and Obi-Wan took the opportunity to speak.

 

      “I can assure you,” Obi-Wan inclined his head with the barest of expected protocol.  “I have not sabotaged anything.  I am simply another passenger aboard this ship.”  
  


      He dropped the shield as he finished, watching the Hutt placidly as the Force hummed protectively around him.  Perhaps even Jemba felt it because he drew back and scowled but said no more, grunting an acknowledgment before slinking away.

 

      The silence continued for a few seconds more after Jemba left and Obi-Wan nodded respectfully at Qui-Gon before looking around.  There was Clat’Ha, still somewhat tense and a little astonished, and Si Treemba hovering uncertainly to the side, looking all but ready to flee.  The Arconan reminded Obi-Wan of Reeft when they had first met, and they had become fast friends.  And Obi-Wan had always had a rather direct way of making them.

 

      So, “Hi,” He greeted lightly, ignoring the nervous way Si Treemba was eyeing him.  “You’re the closest one to my age out of everyone I’ve seen so far and this place is kind of lonely all by myself.  I’m Obi-Wan.  Wanna be friends?”

 

      For a second, the edginess faded and gave way to bewilderment.  This was one of the reasons Obi-Wan always made a point to be as clear as possible; it always stunned people out of their wariness.

 

      “We- We-” The Arconan stumbled over his words but he was no longer huddled in the corner, even taking a cautious step towards Obi-Wan.  His gaze darted to where Jemba had been before skittering back to Obi-Wan.  “The Hutts inspire great terror in us, yet you did not back down from Jemba.  We admire your strength and courage.”

 

      “Hmm, well, you didn’t run when he was in the room,” Obi-Wan remarked.  “You’re pretty brave yourself.”

 

      The Arconan flushed but some of the tension leaked out of his frame.  “We are pleased you think so,” He murmured.  “Our name is Si Treemba.  We would be honoured to be your friend.”

 

      Obi-Wan offered a rare grin as the threads shifted to include the Arconan.  “Cool, I get a tour guide,” He teased, surprising a small smile out of Si Treemba.

 

      He turned back to the others and found himself the recipient of a measured stare and a bemused but warm grin.

 

      “You must be the young Jedi we’re transporting,” Clat’Ha started, moving forward with an outstretched hand.  “Obi-Wan, was it?  I’m Clat’Ha.  Welcome aboard.”  
  


      “Nice to meet you,” Obi-Wan clasped her hand firmly.  “Sorry if I interrupted anything.”  
  


      “Nah, Jemba was just leaving anyway,” Clat’Ha’s expression darkened a little.  “One of those Hutts sabotaged our tunnelers.  Now we’ll have to take them back to base to replace the thermocoms and fix the coring couplers.”

 

      Obi-Wan tilted his head in a contemplative manner as he pulled up what he knew of coring couplers.  He could go look for the thermocoms but he knew exactly where they were and would be found soon enough.  If he went into Offworld territory, and dragged Si Treemba with him, he would be starting a full-out conflict with Offworld if they were caught.

 

      “This does not involve you,”

 

      Obi-Wan glanced up at his future Master who was staring back at him with stern reproach.

 

      “Do not go looking for trouble,” The man continued gruffly.  “It will simply put all of us in a worse situation.”  
  


      _Don’t you trust me at all?_   The unbidden thought sprang into Obi-Wan’s mind and he did his best to ignore the surge of hurt resentment welling up inside him.

 

      “I will not,” Obi-Wan agreed evenly before glancing at Clat’Ha.  “But perhaps you could show me the coring couplers?  I could try fixing them.  That would cut back on the extra time you’ll need to get the tunnelers up and running later on.”

 

      Clat’Ha’s eyes widened visibly.  “Fix-?  You know how?”

 

      Obi-Wan nodded.  “I know my way around machinery.  If the damage isn’t too bad, I’m sure I could repair them.”

 

      Clat’Ha looked positively delighted though there was still a spark of doubt in her eyes.  “Well, it certainly won’t hurt for you to try.  Si,” She glanced over at the Arconan.  “Take Obi-Wan down to where the tunnelers are stored.”

 

      Si Treemba nodded, looking fascinated by this new development.  “You are good with machinery?”  He asked as he finally made his way to Obi-Wan’s side.

 

      “I’m fairly competent,” Obi-Wan confirmed.  But as he turned to follow Si, he caught Qui-Gon’s disapproving stare and couldn’t help the parting remark that sprung to his lips.

 

“I am also certain of my capability in this, Master Jinn.”

 

With that said, he strode out after a puzzled Si Treemba, not bothering to look back and catch the critical gaze that would no doubt be aimed at his back.

 

***WotF***

 

      “How do you know these things?”

 

      On his back inside one of the tunnelers, Obi-Wan glanced up briefly from the wires connecting the computer to the machine.

 

      “I read a lot,” He called back as he fiddled with fried system.  “When I was still an Initiate.”

 

      “Are you no longer an Initiate?”

 

      Obi-Wan smiled wryly to himself.  Si was quite talkative once he was assured of Obi-Wan’s sincere desire to be friends.

 

      “Not anymore, no,” Obi-Wan said, glaring at one of the bolts that was so out of place it wasn’t funny.  The saboteur had done a good job screwing with the machinery.  He stuck a hand out of the tunneler and waved it in the air.  “Pass me a torque wrench.”

 

      The tool was handed to him before Si fired off another question.  “Why not?”

 

      Obi-Wan didn’t pause in his work as he unscrewed the bolt and detached the connectors.  “’Cause I’m too old and the Master I wanted didn’t want me.”  Ouch; it hurt a lot more when he said it out loud.

 

      Si stayed quiet for a long minute before speaking again.  “Why did Master Jinn not want you?”

 

      Obi-Wan almost cracked his head against the bottom side of the computer as he started.  “...How did you know it was Master Jinn?”

 

      Through the Force, he felt Si shrug.  “At first, we thought you were his apprentice, his Padawan.  But we see now that this is not true and we know of no other Master.”

 

      Obi-Wan grunted and sent a gentle wave of the Force to probe at the inside of the computer, assessing the damage.  “He didn’t think I was suitable,” He revealed as offhandedly as he could.

 

      “In what way?”

 

      “Si,” Obi-Wan reprimanded gently.  He really didn’t want to continue on this thread.

 

      “We apologize,” Si immediately backtracked.  “We did not mean to hurt you.”  
  


      Obi-Wan chuckled but it was a humourless sound.  Most people would think he was merely uncomfortable with the topic but the Arconan seemed to have gotten right to the core of the matter.

 

      “Don’t worry about it,” Obi-Wan observed the frayed wires before applying the Force to them.  At least they weren’t cut.  Even with future knowledge, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t know how to go about mending them entirely with the Force.

 

      “Then...” Si started again after Obi-Wan had patched up three wires.  “Why do you not ask other Masters to take you?”

 

      “Ah, it doesn’t work that way,” Obi-Wan explained.  “Masters are the ones who ask Initiates.”

 

      “Then was Master Jinn the only one who asked you?”

 

      Obi-Wan stared at the tangle of wires in front of him even as his mind contemplated the question.

 

      “No,” He finally replied, brushing over the inside of the coring computer once more to check over his work.  “I turned them all down.”

 

      Wriggling out from under the machine, Obi-Wan swung himself out from the tunneler and landed lightly next to Si, tossing the torque wrench back into a nearby toolkit.

 

      “Okay,” Obi-Wan straightened his clothes as he nodded at Si.  “Give it a test-run.”

 

      Si nodded and waved to one of the Arconans standing off to the side.  They had all been somewhat skeptical when Si Treemba had brought Obi-Wan down here and had been reluctant to let him near the tunnelers, but they seemed willing enough to try the machine after they found out Clat’Ha had agreed to it.

 

      Stepping away from the tunneler as the Arconan scanned the inner workings, Obi-Wan stretched out the kinks in his body and circled the room to walk off his restlessness.  He didn’t like being completely surrounded by walls.

 

      A ragged cheer, surprise mixed with amazement, rose from the centre of the room and Obi-Wan was instantly mobbed as he returned to the miners, smiling at the rapid questions and grateful appreciation directed his way.  They were eager to help in any way possible with the other two tunnelers now that Obi-Wan had proved that he knew what he was doing.

 

      “Obi-Wan?”

 

      “Hmm?”  Obi-Wan peered over his shoulder as he vacated the last tunneler, keeping half an eye on the miners as they followed his directions and attempted to fix it themselves.  Their repairs would have to be strengthened with the Force later but they were quick to learn and understood Obi-Wan well enough to finish at least two-thirds of the work.

 

      “We do not understand why you would turn the other Masters down.”

 

      Obi-Wan stilled, gaze growing distant as he leaned against one of the worktables.  He thought of Qui-Gon’s cold dismissals and the man’s continuous refusal to give him a chance.

 

      “To be honest, Si,” Obi-Wan offered a weary smile.  “Sometimes, I don’t know why I would turn them down either.”  
  


      His thoughts turned to the futures, to the broken but precious Master he would always cherish, always stand by, no matter what happened.  He thought of how happy he could make his Master if Obi-Wan could only protect the man from the burdens of the future.  He thought of the rare occasions Qui-Gon would smile at him and mean it and actually look proud to have someone like Obi-Wan as his Padawan.

 

      “But most of the time,” Obi-Wan’s smile became more sincere if a little sad.  “Most of the time, I know exactly why.  I want Master Jinn as my Master.  Him or no one at all.”

 

      “But _why_?”  Si pressed, still puzzled.  Obi-Wan had a feeling the Arconan would be confused no matter how he tried to explain.

 

      “Because he’s worth it,” Obi-Wan said simply as he pushed off the worktable when one of the miners called him over.

 

      He thought of Qui-Gon and Bant and Garen and Reeft and all the new friends he had somehow made in the course of the last six hours.

 

      _To me,_ Obi-Wan thought as he pointed out the problem one miner had come across and talked the man through it.  _They are worth everything I have to do to keep them safe_.

 

***WotF***

 

      “He’s a good kid,” Clat’Ha observed from the shadows of a corridor that looked out to the docking bay.  “Maybe I can hire him on if he really doesn’t like the AgriCorps.”

 

      Qui-Gon remained stoic as he observed the boy, talking with the large group of miners.  Most were Arconans and they were usually wary of outsiders but they accepted the twelve-year-old like he was one of their own.  Looking closer, he realized they were taking a break from the repairs and were attempting to teach the boy Arconese.

 

      “He certainly knows his way around machinery,” Qui-Gon acknowledged blandly.

 

      A smatter of laughter spiked as the boy stumbled over the language.  Instead of getting angry, he simply rolled his eyes at them in a good-natured manner and tried again.

 

      _He is different from Xanatos_.

 

The thought popped into Qui-Gon’s mind before he could stop it but he quelled it with a cold denial.  _He is still too confident, too arrogant._

 

He reflected on the stray thought he had caught from the boy back in the room after Jemba had left.

 

_Don't you trust me at all?_

 

Wasn't that arrogance in the making?  What had the boy done to gain Qui-Gon’s trust?

 

 _Ah_ , a sly voice echoed in his mind.  _But what did he do to lose that trust in the first place?  What has that boy ever done to you?_

 

Qui-Gon’s jaw tightened and he was ridiculously thankful when a Human raced up to Clat’Ha and distracted him from his thoughts.

 

“Chief!”  The man gasped, holding out what turned out to be the thermocoms.  “We found them!  They were hidden in a barrel of lubricant, mostly undamaged.  Is the boy finished with the repairs?”

 

Clat’Ha grinned, her features lighting up as she took the thermocoms.  “He’s almost done.  No repair costs, no time loss.  The boy’s a godsend.”

 

“You should keep him on, Boss,” The man chuckled.  “Our lucky charm.”  
  


“I just might,” Clat’Ha agreed.  “We could certainly use a mechanic.”

 

Qui-Gon was surprised at the rush of displeasure that came with this suggestion and he quickly turned away, calming his mind as he scanned the deck.  One of the miners had dragged the boy over to worktables, explaining the use of each tool in a mix of Basic and Arconese.

 

Suppressing a sigh, Qui-Gon nodded once at Clat’Ha and the crewmate before escaping from the deck, heading back for his cabin to meditate.  He felt off=balance and uneasy.  Perhaps some time to himself would get him centered again.

 

***WotF***

 

      Obi-Wan was already buckling on his lightsaber as the first explosion rocked the ship.  All but ripping open his cabin door, he almost crashed headlong into Qui-Gon as the Master hurtled out of his own room.

 

      “You're up,” Qui-Gon nodded curtly before setting off down the corridor at a dead run.  “Follow me.”

 

      All along the hallways, Arconans were whining in terror, hissing as they backed into their rooms and locked the doors.

 

      “What hit us?”  Clat’Ha burst onto their landing, blaster in hand as she joined them.  Si Treemba was a few steps behind her, also clutching a blaster, but the terror was very real in his eyes and Obi-Wan was damn impressed that his friend was even here.  Arconans didn’t fight; they didn’t know how, yet here was Si, holding a weapon he had probably never fired in his entire life.

 

      Reaching out to clasp the Arconan’s shoulder for a moment, Obi-Wan made sure to catch Si’s eye before assuring over the ruckus, “We’ll protect each other!”

 

      Something calmed in Si’s eyes, and while still afraid, determination also surfaced, and the Arconan nodded back resolutely.

 

      “Pirates,” Qui-Gon was saying up ahead as he ignited his ’saber.  “They’re planning to board us.”

 

      “We don’t have anything worth stealing!”  Clat’Ha shouted.

 

      “The pirates don’t know that,” Qui-Gon replied grimly.  “At least not until they’ve blown us to pieces and searched through the rubble.”

 

      They rounded another corner and caught sight of five Togorian warships through the transparisteel viewport.

 

      “Oh, this is just wonderful,” Clat’Ha growled, but she didn’t have more time to say anything else as two warships screamed past the port, opening fire on them without mercy.

 

      Metal shrieked in protest and the corridors filled with greasy smoke.  The _Monument_ had gone silent and Obi-Wan guessed that the gun turrets had been blown away.  Floating dead in space with only the sound of fire alarms ringing in their ears and the Force nagging him to _movemovemove_ , Obi-Wan spoke up.

 

      “Master Jinn!”  He called out, getting the man’s attention.  “I can pilot this ship,” _Hopefully_ , he mentally amended.  “I can go check if the bridge crew’s still alive.”  
  


      Qui-Gon gave him a long calculating stare and Obi-Wan knew he was debating whether or not to trust him.  It was just too bad that their current situation didn’t have any time for the Master’s trust issues.

 

      “Oh for the love of god!”  Clat’Ha hollered above the shrill alarms.  “You’re on half of _my_ ship.  Obi-Wan, go!  Si, go with him!”  
  


      Swallowing the disappointment clogging his throat, Obi-Wan dashed away, Si at his heels as they scurried towards the bridge.

 

***WotF***

 

      “I don’t know what issues you have with that boy but try not to hash them out while we’re fighting for our lives!”  Clat’Ha snapped as they charged towards the nearest docking bay.

 

      Qui-Gon gritted his teeth as a handful of Togorian pirates came into view and readied himself for the oncoming enemies.

 

      “My apologies,” He called out evenly, making a note to berate himself later.  It wasn’t like him to let himself become conflicted in the middle of a battle but a large part of him had been screaming to keep the boy at his side even though his mind had been about to ask him the very same thing the boy had suggested.

 

      “Whatever,” Clat’Ha huffed before opening fire on the nearest pirate.

 

      Qui-Gon drew in a breath and surged forward, cutting down the largest pirate in front of him, letting the Force guide him through his movements.

 

      This was going to be a long battle.

 

***WotF***

 

      “Captain and co-pilot’s still alive,” Obi-Wan announced after Si had plugged the hole in the hull.  “Help me unbuckle him.”

 

      Si raced over and together, they lowered the unconscious pilot to the ground.  Scanning the bridge console, Obi-Wan chewed on his lip.  The golden threads were barely any help at the moment, caught up in the rapid-fire events and unable to decide which path to take as everyone moved in different directions.  He had already seen a general overview of what could happen on this mission but there was no step-by-step guide to lead him.

 

      “What are you going to do, Obi-Wan?”  Si asked, clutching at the console.

 

      Obi-Wan glanced at him, saw the trust, the conviction the Arconan had that Obi-Wan would know how to get them out of this, and he knew he couldn’t fail here.

 

      “Let’s send a message to the Togorians,” He decided grimly.  “There’s no way we’re going to roll over and let them walk all over us.”

 

      And reaching across the console, Obi-Wan launched the proton torpedoes already loaded into the tubes.

 

      A blinding flash lit space like a solar flare as the torpedoes found their target.  Eyes watering at the intense light, Obi-Wan watched as half the Togorian gunship disintegrated to bits of debris, followed by another explosion that took out the gunship’s arsenal.  Obi-Wan smiled thinly when a huge chunk of the blown gunship hurtled into the second Togorian warship, ripping its hull wide open.

 

      “That’s a beautiful sight,” Obi-Wan proclaimed as he moved over to the navigation controls.  “The navigation console’s out; I’ll have to fly this thing manually.  Si, start loading more torpedoes in to the launch tubes.”

 

      Si shifted over to Obi-Wan’s side.  “Right here?”  He pointed at the part of the console Obi-Wan had fiddled with earlier and, upon receiving an affirmative, flicked the controls on.

 

      “Alright,” Obi-Wan pulled back hard as he hit the thrusters.  “Let’s get outta here.”

 

      He sent a wave of power outwards to the engines, hoping to sooth the damage done to them as he heard metal grinding.

 

      “Obi-Wan!”  Si cried out suddenly.  “There are two Togorian cruisers at the docking bays!  We will tear the ship apart if we move!”

 

      Swearing under his breath, Obi-Wan let go of the controls.  If he continued, all the air by the docking bays would rush into space.

 

      He was fairly certain that Qui-Gon and Clat’Ha had gone to stop the pirates’ boarding party at said bays.

 

      Dare he risk it?

 

      Ahead of him, a Togorian warship opened fire and made the decision for him.

 

***WotF***

 

      As one of the pirate’s vibro-ax bit deep into his shoulder, Qui-Gon crashed to the ground, gasping from the searing pain.  Even trying to lift his right arm proved to be useless.

 

      The sound of peeling metal reached his ears from behind the pirate and Qui-Gon stared, stunned when the seals to the hold ripped apart and the vacuum of space sucked the ship’s air away with brutal speed.  Debris, blasters, helmets, and even bodies came hurtling down the hall, battering the huge pirate he had been fighting, who was also fighting against the wind.

 

      Gritting his teeth, Qui-Gon allowed the wind to drag him towards the vacuum and closer to the pirate.  If he died, he would take this monster with him.

 

      _‘Master, hang on!’_

 

      Qui-Gon jerked, automatically reaching out and latching onto a grate as the voice reached him.  Had he imagined it?

 

      _‘Master, hang on!’_

 

      The voice was faint but there was no mistaking it.  And last time he checked, the boy was on the bridge.  Cautiously, he reached out with his mind, searching for the bond he had always known was there, one that had formed ever since he had clapped eyes on the boy at Yoda’s insistence several years ago.  It was thin and weak, unacknowledged as it had been, but there was no doubting the urgency that rippled through the bond.

 

      Qui-Gon hesitated for only a moment longer before reaching for the connection.  This was no time to question the boy, no time to doubt-

 

      _‘Obi-Wan?’_

 

      A short silence and Qui-Gon got the feeling that he had just shocked the twelve-year-old.  He supposed that was his fault; he hadn’t called Obi-Wan by name even once so far.

 

      _‘Master Jinn,’_ Obi-Wan recovered quickly.  _‘Please hang on.  I am getting us away as fast as I can.’_

 

      Qui-Gon grimaced and glanced back to see the pirate captain clawing his way towards him.  _‘I cannot.  One of the pirates will get past me if I don’t stop him now.’_

 

      There was no instant reply and Qui-Gon thought the boy had accepted the explanation, but a few seconds later, a fierce sort of resolve rushed through the bond, strengthening the connection with the clarity of Obi-Wan’s emotions.

 

      _‘Then I will help you,’_ Obi-Wan answered.

 

      Qui-Gon frowned.  _‘You can’t-’_

 

      _‘Master,’_ Obi-Wan cut him off, his voice a soothing hum across the bond.  _‘I am asking you to trust me, if only a little.  Let me help you.’_

 

      Qui-Gon wracked his mind and found he could not come up with an objection.  Too tired to protest, he could only remember all the times the boy had come through, one way or another, and no matter how harshly Qui-Gon had been towards him, Obi-Wan was still offering his help.

 

      _‘What are you going to do?’_   Qui-Gon asked grimly, shifting his grip to get a firmer hold on the grate.

 

      In reply, a heartbeat later, Qui-Gon almost let go as the Force swirled around him, giving him strength and anchoring him to the bay so that he was no longer fighting on his own.

 

      Oddly enough, the only thought that occurred to him at that moment was Micah’s Padawan’s words:

 

      _He understands the Force like no one else._

 

      _‘Obi-Wan, are you doing this?’_   Qui-Gon asked faintly, as he released his hold on the grate and regained his footing, thunderstruck as the Force wrapped around his injury and began to heal it.

 

      A strained laugh came over the bond.  _‘I don’t know how long I can do this.  You might want to finish your battle as quickly as possible.  And then maybe send a medical team up the bridge.  Si is going to throw a fit when I collapse after this.’_

 

      Qui-Gon shook himself out of his shock and summoned his lightsaber from across the room.  _‘Hang on,’_ He sent back, igniting his weapon and setting his sights on the pirate.  Qui-Gon could see the glimmer of fear in the man’s eyes even from this distance.  _‘I’ll make this quick.’_

 

      And once everything was over, Qui-Gon was going to sit down and try to wrap his mind around the fact that someone could work with the Force on such an unbelievably high level.

 

***WotF***

 

      “Where is he?”  Qui-Gon pushed his way into the sickbay where a nervous-looking Arconan led him to one of the beds in the far corner.  All but ripping the curtain aside, he shot a swift apologetic look in Si Tremmba’s direction before focusing on the deathly still child in the bed.  He almost felt sick.

 

      If it hadn’t been for the rise and fall of his chest, Qui-Gon would’ve thought Obi-Wan dead.  The boy was almost as pale as the sheets beneath him and bags as dark as bruises already ringed his eyes.

 

      “You are alright, Master Jinn?”  Si Treemba’s voice cut through the turmoil in his mind and Qui-Gon glanced over at the Arconan as he dropped into an empty chair.

 

      “I am fine,” He confirmed, and it was the truth.  Whatever he had done, however he had done it, Obi-Wan had Force-healed his shoulder so well that it barely ached.  He knew Healers who would give an arm and a leg just to _teach_ someone with this much potential.

 

      “We are glad to hear this,” Si Treemba continued, head bobbing.  “It was Obi-Wan’s last request.”  
  


      Qui-Gon almost leapt to his feet.  “ _What_?”

 

      Si Treemba blinked back at him, drawing back warily.  “Obi-Wan asked us to confirm your well-being right before he passed out.”

 

      Qui-Gon relaxed again.  Oh; _that_ kind of last request.  Force, he really needed to meditate.

 

      ...Wait.

 

      “He asked after _my_ well-being?”  Qui-Gon enquired.

 

      Si Treemba nodded.  “Yes, he was quite worried.”

 

      Qui-Gon closed his eyes and fought the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose.  He didn’t think even Tahl was quite as good as Obi-Wan when it came to making him feel completely despicable.

 

      _Reckless_ , the logical part of his mind said softly.  _But not arrogant.  And reckless only when he is trying to protect someone he cares about_.

 

      “How is he?”  Clat’Ha ducked into the makeshift room, red hair mussed and clothes lined with the evidence of heavy battle but her eyes were still sharp and alert as they settled on Obi-Wan.

 

      “Resting,” Qui-Gon probed their mental link again, reaching across the bond, but like it had been ever since the end of the fight, heavy shields had been raised and no matter how much Qui-Gon called, Obi-Wan did not answer.  He had no wish to force his way through as that would probably do more damage than good, but he also had no idea if Obi-Wan was only suffering from psychic shock and was somehow already healing himself or going through something worse.  He didn’t exactly have a case to compare it to after all.

 

      “What about you?”  Qui-Gon prompted instead.  “What’s going on out there?”

 

      “Well, our boy-wonder’s managed to land us on a planet with actual oxygen near Bandomeer,” Clat’Ha started, taking a seat at the end of Obi-Wan’s bed.  “Most of the Arconans were uninjured; it’s the majority of the crew and some of the Offworld miners in here at the moment.”

 

      “But?”  Qui-Gon almost didn’t want to ask.

 

      Clat’Ha sighed heavily.  “Jemba’s stolen the Arconans’ dactyl and taken control of the ship.”

 

      Qui-Gon stiffened as Si Treemba gasped from beside him.  “Why did you not come to me earlier?  I-”

 

      “You’re injured,” Clat’Ha said firmly.  “You are _injured_.  Critically so.  At least that’s what Jemba believes, and it’s gonna stay that way.  He’s got us all at gunpoint, Master Jinn.  We need all the help we can get.  He’s bound to underestimate us so if a fight breaks out, maybe we’ll actually have a chance.”  
  


      Qui-Gon released a steadying breath before nodding.  It was a nice tactic but if Offworld was against them...

 

      “What of the Arconans?”  Qui-Gon asked carefully.  “Have they joined Offworld now that their dactyl supply is gone?”

 

      Clat’Ha’s mouth twisted into a satisfied smile.  “No, and I think we can thank your boy for that too.  Si at least will stand with Obi-Wan,” She glanced over at Si Treemba who nodded fiercely.  “And the Arconans know that.  They stay in a group.  If Si is with us, so are the rest.”  
  


      Qui-Gon nodded, leaning back into his seat again.  Belatedly, he thought he should tell Clat’Ha that Obi-Wan wasn’t _his_ anything.

 

      “As it is, Jemba aside, we’re not entirely out of danger yet,” Clat’Ha continued.  “The tide’s coming in and we’re going to have to evacuate in case it swamps the ship.  The engines are down for repair and we won’t be able to get them back up in time.”

 

      “We can stay on the planet for awhile,” Qui-Gon said but Clat’Ha was already shaking her head.

 

      “There are draigons outside,” Clat’Ha ran a hand through her hair, clearly frustrated.  “Some of the crew’s found some caves higher up on the island so we can hide there for the time being, preferably before the sun rises and the draigons waken.”

 

      Qui-Gon frowned heavily but nodded.  There was nothing else to do.

 

      Clat’Ha rose and clapped him on the shoulder.  “Look on the bright side,” She managed a mischievous smirk.  “Jemba has been furious ever since he found out we might drown if we stay.  Maybe he’s afraid he won’t fit in a cave and a draigon will do us all a favour and eat him for breakfast.”

 

      Even Qui-Gon cracked a smile at the mental image as he watched the woman leave.

 

      “May we ask you a question, Master Jinn?”

 

      Qui-Gon turned to look at Si Treemba.  The Arconan looked curious and troubled at the same time.

 

      At his nod, Si Treemba continued, “Why did you turn down Obi-Wan as your apprentice?”  
  


      Qui-Gon stilled before releasing a heavy sigh.  “Lately, I don’t know why I turned him down,” He admitted quietly.

 

      Si Treemba tilted his head in a thoughtful manner.  “Odd.  Obi-Wan said much the same.”

 

      Qui-Gon straightened in his seat.  “I beg your pardon?”

 

      Si Treemba considered him for a long moment before shrugging.  “Obi-Wan told us much the same when we asked him why he turned down all the Masters who wanted to apprentice him.”  
  


      Qui-Gon froze.  Well, he supposed it only made sense.  Someone of Obi-Wan’s calibre couldn’t possibly have gone unnoticed or been overlooked.  Qui-Gon could admit, now, that Obi-Wan would make a good Padawan for anyone.  It was rather foolish of him not to question this aspect sooner.

 

      But Obi-Wan had turned them all down, waiting for... him?  The boy should’ve known Qui-Gon would turn him down yet he had still gambled on the off-chance that he wouldn’t.  Why?

 

      In all honesty, Obi-Wan was a mystery to him.  He didn’t really know the boy at all and shame sparked inside him when he realized how much he had assumed of Obi-Wan, untruths borne from his own fear of being a bad Master.  He had dropped all that on the child’s shoulders and refused to see it.

 

      “We will leave now, Master Jinn,” Si Treemba stood, scanning Obi-Wan once more before heading for the curtain.  “We must pack and ready ourselves for evacuation.”  
  


      Qui-Gon nodded silently and turned back to Obi-Wan once the Arconan was gone.  Again, he wandered down the mental link between them, pressing against the shields as hard as he dared.  At this rate, he would have to tear them down anyway, damage or no.  Obi-Wan could be dying and Qui-Gon would have no idea until it was too late.

 

      He jerked back when the shields suddenly shifted but stayed hovering uncertainly in front of them as they continued to stir.

 

      _‘Master?’_

 

      The echo of Obi-Wan’s voice was weak and thready but Qui-Gon nearly collapsed in relief as the previous silence along their bond disappeared.

 

      _‘I’m here,’_ He soothed, wandering closer to the boy’s mind.  _‘Are you alright?’_

 

      A weak chuckle thrummed through their bond.  _‘Would you believe me if I said yes?’_

 

      _‘No,’_ Qui-Gon instantly replied, quirking a slight smile as he remembered Padawan Muln’s words.  He hesitated briefly before tentatively brushing at the shields.  _‘What can I do to help?’_

 

      A ripple of bemusement ran down the bond, making Qui-Gon wince.  Well, he hadn’t exactly been very helpful to the boy recently.  Or at all.

 

      _‘I just need rest,’_ Came the eventual response.  _‘I think I’ll be out of commission for at least the next few hours.  Sorry.’_

 

      _‘You have nothing to apologize for,’_ Qui-Gon objected.  Sending a Force-healing wave in Obi-Wan’s direction, he breathed a sigh of relief when it got through.

 

      For the next few minutes, Qui-Gon concentrated on healing the boy.  There were outward signs of improvement too as some of the colour returned to Obi-Wan’s skin.

 

      _‘Are you okay?’_   Obi-Wan’s voice was stronger but still nowhere near where Qui-Gon wanted it.

 

      Qui-Gon paused before continuing his ministrations.  _‘Yes, thanks to you.’_

 

      The bond fluctuated and Qui-Gon picked up the first stirring of agitation.

 

      _‘You’ll want an explanation of course.’_   The distress spiked and Qui-Gon did his best to calm him.

 

      _‘I don’t need one right now,’_ Qui-Gon murmured.  It pained him that an interrogation was all Obi-Wan expected from him.  _‘I was warned that your understanding of the Force is quite in depth after all.’_

 

      Obi-Wan quieted again, already drained and he seemed to be drifting off again.

 

      _‘Master?’_

 

      _‘What is it?’_

 

      _‘Is Si alright?  And Clat’Ha?  And the miners?  What about the crew?’_

 

      The questions came one after the other and Qui-Gon did his best to stem it.  _‘Si Treemba is alright.  So is Clat’Ha and most of the miners.  There are some injured and they're being treated in sickbay.’_   He stopped and considered his next words before forging on.  _‘Obi-Wan, don’t worry yourself about what is happening.  Just concentrate on getting better, okay?’_

 

      Obi-Wan shifted restlessly, and Qui-Gon mused, for all that the child was usually calm and quiet, he was still a bundle of energy, always wanting to be on the move.

 

      _‘Okay,’_ Obi-Wan finally agreed and his side of the bond quieted.  To Qui-Gon’s relief, the shields didn’t shut him out completely again.  The steady presence of Obi-Wan’s mind was comforting if only because of its familiarity.

 

      _‘...Master?’_

 

      Qui-Gon smiled wryly to himself.  _‘Yes?’_

 

      _‘Thanks for trusting me.’_

 

      Qui-Gon frowned, reaching out to run his hands through the boy’s hair.  He sent back a current of acknowledgement but didn’t say anything with words.  He wasn’t sure what to say.  Obi-Wan shouldn't have to thank him for something like that.

 

      _‘...Master?’_

 

      Qui-Gon sighed, mildly exasperated.  The boy was near-asleep anyway so he would indulge him.  _‘Yes, Obi-Wan?’_

 

      A long silence followed and Qui-Gon thought Obi-Wan had drifted off at last without managing to finish the last thought, but a moment later, an image was all but shoved down the bond, startling him with its intensity.

 

      The image was of a cave in a cliff covered with a yellow haze.  No, not covered, glowing with a faint yellow light.

 

      _‘Obi-Wan?’_   Qui-Gon queried.  _‘What was that?’_

 

      No answer came and Qui-Gon knew the boy was well and truly asleep now.

 

      With a sigh, Qui-Gon rose to his feet.  He needed to pack and gather Obi-Wan’s things as well.

 

      Making sure one of the miners would be stationed by Obi-Wan’s side, Qui-Gon slipped out of the ward and headed for his cabin.  It took him a bit longer as he lingered in the shadows and avoided any Offworld members but the Arconans were eager enough to help, creating distractions wherever necessary.

 

      As he stepped into his room and began packing his belongings, Qui-Gon passed the small portal in the cabin and then did a double-take.  Tilting his head, he could make out the craggy cliffs in the distance, shimmering with a pale yellow... light.

 

      Jemba’s anger.  The missing dactyl.  The cliff glowing with yellow light.  And Obi-Wan.

 

      Had it been a vision?  Well the boy certainly wouldn’t have seen the cliff yet so it must’ve been.  And Obi-Wan wouldn’t have used the last of his strength to send it to Qui-Gon if it wasn’t important.

 

      Somehow or another, Obi-Wan had had a vision, most likely seen where the dactyl was hidden.  And now it was up to Qui-Gon to find it.

 

***WotF***

 

      Holed up in the cave, Si checked, once again, that his friend was as comfortable as possible.  Master Jinn had gone off somewhere, promising to bring back the dactyl, and had given him the job of protecting Obi-Wan.

 

      Si would’ve done it anyway of course.  As far as he was concerned, Obi-Wan had saved them all from the pirates, with some help, but Si had been impressed with Obi-Wan’s piloting skills, especially after he had confessed to hating and even being a little afraid of flying.  Obi-Wan had been scared but he had done it anyway.

 

      The other Arconans started humming and Si joined in.  Glancing down, he sang a little louder, hoping his friend would hear.

 

/The sun is finally hidden,

And here our world is black.

In this cave we have the stones,

And our brothers at our back.

Outside the storms may threaten,

But here the day is calm.

We’ll cleave to earth like flesh to bone,

With our brothers we belong./

 

***WotF***

 

      Swearing profusely in his head but concentrating on the task at hand, Qui-Gon weaved around the blaster shots exploding around him.  The Whipids weren’t particularly good shots but there were more of them so he still had to be careful.

 

      He supposed the Hutt guarding the dactyl had seen him approach and had contacted Jemba for orders.

 

      Shrieks from above made him look up and he caught sight of droves of draigons heading their way.  The Whipids had stopped firing at him now and had turned their attention to the draigons but it was too late; soaring over the stones, the beasts flocked down upon the Whipids in a feeding frenzy, teeth gleaming as they plummeted out of the clouds and plucked the Whipids from their hiding places.

 

      Darting forward, Qui-Gon took the chance to load the dactyl into the sack he had brought.  Keeping half an eye on the mouth of the cave, he scooped up the last of the dactyl and then dove for one side of the cave when a looming shadow blocked the light streaming into the cavern.  Outside, a draigon screamed, clutching at the rock with its claws, and Qui-Gon knew he was trapped.

 

      Burrowing back as far as he could when razor-sharp teeth flashed mere inches in front of him, Qui-Gon looked around desperately for a way out.

 

      Something stirred at the back of his mind and he felt the bond he had with Obi-Wan brighten.

 

      _‘Master?’_

 

      _‘A little busy at the moment, Obi-Wan,’_ Qui-Gon sent back as lightly as he could.  He didn’t need the boy to worry more than he probably already was.  He didn’t bother hiding the relief he felt now that Obi-Wan was conscious again.

 

      A hum of appreciative amusement floated down the link.  _‘Understood,’_ Obi-Wan said, and then urged with calm insistence, _‘Jump.’_

 

      _‘What?’_   Qui-Gon ducked as teeth scraped at the air in front of him.

 

      And then he felt it; a ripple in the Force.

 

      _‘Obi-Wan, it’s too soon,’_ He thought sharply.  _‘You’ll put yourself into a coma at this rate.’_

 

      _‘Are you questioning the Force, Master?’_   Obi-Wan returned almost teasingly.

 

      Qui-Gon made to answer and then stared wide-eyed when the draigon suddenly dropped from its clumsy perch and giving Qui-Gon an escape route.

 

      _‘Jump,’_ Obi-Wan repeated, and this time, Qui-Gon heard the undercurrent of the Force in the boy’s voice, thrumming with subtle power.  _‘Jump now.’_

 

      Qui-Gon had always trusted the Force and he was beginning to trust Obi-Wan as well.  If both of them told him to jump, then...

 

      Sprinting for the ledge, Qui-Gon leapt outwards, striving to push the image of the sharp rocks two hundred meters below out of his mind.

 

      He didn’t fall.  Not very far anyway.  Instead, with a wet thud, Qui-Gon landed on a draigon and instantly began to slip.  Scrambling for a better hold, he managed to swing his legs over the back of the draigon, hanging on as best he could as the beast released a terrified roar and began trying to shake him off.

 

      _‘All yours now, Master,’_ Obi-Wan told him, and Qui-Gon got the feeling that the boy was slipping away again, his voice growing fainter with every second.

 

      Sending back a determined acknowledgement, Qui-Gon gathered the Force together and whispered fiercely, “Take me to the caves.  Hurry!”

 

***WotF***

 

      “When’s the boy getting up?”

 

      Si, trembling with the lack of dactyl, clumsily shifted to put himself in front of Obi-Wan as Jemba stared malevolently at them.

 

      “He is sick,” He said weakly.  “Please leave him alone.”

 

      Jemba scoffed derisively, his tail swishing.  “I have no interest in a mere sickly child,” He glanced around and openly guffawed at the fading Arconans’ plight.

 

      “I have dactyl for sale!”  He gloated.  “Sell me your lives and I’ll have enough for all of you!”

 

      Si shuddered as some of the Arconans moaned and shifted in Jemba’s direction.  “Obi-Wan, help,” He murmured helplessly, clutching at the clammy hand of his friend.

 

      To his surprise, the hand clenched back, brief and feeble but very real.  His head snapped down and his eyes widened when he found lucid blue-green staring back at him.

 

      “Help’s comin’,” Obi-Wan coughed, struggling to sit up, and Si helped as best he could.  “Master Jinn’s coming back.”

 

      Si sagged with relief.  “What about him?”  He gestured at the gigantic Hutt still jeering at his people.

 

      “’m gonna shut ’im up,” Obi-Wan muttered and staggered upright, fumbling for his lightsaber.

 

      “Obi-Wan!”  Si tried to stand but collapsed back to the ground, too weak to do more than slump against the cave wall.

 

      “S’okay,” Obi-Wan offered him a smile, the smile Si had learned to recognize as the one his friend always wore when things were going to get better very soon.  Black crept into his vision again but this time, he only smiled tiredly and let the darkness drag him down.  Obi-Wan had said it was okay and Si trusted him to make it so.

 

***WotF***

 

      “Hey, Ugly!”  Obi-Wan ignited his ’saber and stepped forward as steadily as he could.  He still felt lightheaded and a week of sleep sounded like a very good idea at the moment but there was no time for that.

 

      Jemba sneered at him, body moving sluggishly as his bulk drew closer.  “Well, I see you've finally finished your little nap,” He eyed Obi-Wan’s lightsaber disdainfully.  “I wonder if it is bravery or stupidity that has you standing against me without your Master at your back.”

 

      Obi-Wan stifled a snort.  He had no Master.  “Leave, Jemba,” He said flatly, raising his weapon.

 

      A flash of red appeared at the corner of his eye and Obi-Wan felt Clat’Ha step up beside him, her blaster already drawn.

 

      “He’s right,” The woman bit out.  “You’re not welcome here.  Get out and leave the dactyl for the Arconans.”

 

      Jemba cackled.  “A woman with one blaster and a reject from the Jedi Temple.  What kind of resistance do you plan to put up?”

 

      Obi-Wan felt a thrum of anger but the Force whispered reassuringly to him, soothing him without words.  His mind clear, he felt the improvised bond with Qui-Gon stir as his future Master sent a warning.

 

      _‘Can you hear me, Obi-Wan?  I’m heading your way but there are dozens of draigons behind me.’_

 

      _‘I hear you,’_ Obi-Wan squinted past the dizziness clouding his mind.  _‘Give me a few seconds to get past a certain roadblock.’_

 

      A muffled trill of amusement came from Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan found an answering smile on his lips.

 

      “Qui-Gon’s comin’,” He said out loud, words still slurring a little.  “And he’s got an entire flock of draigons with him.  I suggest gettin’ outta the way.”

 

      “I don’t think so,” Jemba drew himself up.  “My men should already have taken care of your precious Master.  If you're lucky,” He added nastily.  “Maybe I’ll have them bring you back a body.”

 

      Obi-Wan’s mouth twisted into a grim line and he slashed his ’saber down in one smooth stroke.  Within the next heartbeat, he released as much of his pain and weakness into the Force, allowing it to support him.  The golden threads parted clearly for the first time since this entire fiasco had started and showed him the oncoming battle.

 

      It was going to be a long day.

 

      _‘You’ll help me?’_   Obi-Wan asked, listening hard for an answer from the Force.

 

      His constant companion since the day he was born replied with chime-like laughter, giggling softly in his ear.

 

      _‘When have we ever done otherwise?’_   It countered, and Obi-Wan knew he would be alright.

 

***WotF***

 

      Qui-Gon almost couldn’t bear to leave Obi-Wan at the mouth of the cave but the Arconans needed the dactyl and the look in Obi-Wan’s eyes, calm and centered just like that day in the training room, urged him on.  He recognized the look now; it was one every Jedi strived to achieve, submersing themselves into a fight with the Force at their back.  If Obi-Wan could feel the Force to that degree at this age, it was no wonder the boy was so certain of his capability.

 

      “I’ll hand it out,” Clat’Ha intercepted him, taking the cloth sack.  “I know you want to help your kid.”  
  


      Qui-Gon didn’t even bother correcting her as he nodded and rushed back towards the entrance, drawing his ’saber as he ran.

 

      He hurtled forward and batted a dragon away from Obi-Wan’s unguarded back just in time.  He met the boy’s gaze evenly and nodded once.  It was all the communication they needed.

 

      Slipping seamlessly together with the Force pulsing around them, Qui-Gon couldn’t remember the last time he had fought so well with another person.  Tired as he was and still only twelve, Qui-Gon had to cover for Obi-Wan several times, but the boy was doing his fair share of protecting as well, guarding his flank when Qui-Gon moved forward, dancing away when Qui-Gon struck.

 

      The battle lasted long into the afternoon as they, along with Clat’Ha, Si Treemba, and some of the Hutts, Whipids, and revived Arconans, defended the caves from the draigons.

 

      Oddly enough, Obi-Wan always hovered protectively in front of each cave entrance and it took a closer observation on Qui-Gon’s part to see that Obi-Wan was erecting Force-shields to cover the miners, protecting them from harm as well.

 

      He had never seen anyone, not even Yoda, wield the Force with such easy efficiency.

 

      But it was draining Obi-Wan twice as fast and the boy couldn’t afford it so Qui-Gon threw his own strength into the shields, taking some of the weight off of him.  He received a grateful smile in return before they were caught up in another battle, defending for all they were worth.

 

      By the time dusk fell, the last of the draigons were retreating, leaping into the air and away from the caves.  A ragged cheer rose from Hutts, Whipids, Arconans, and Humans alike but Qui-Gon saw none of this.

 

      Instead, he lunged towards Obi-Wan as the boy literally collapsed the moment the battle was over, eyes rolling upwards as he slumped into Qui-Gon’s arms.

 

      _‘...Master?’_   Obi-Wan’s voice was beyond weak, muted and fading in a way that sent a chill through Qui-Gon’s heart.

 

      _‘Hush, little one,’_ Qui-Gon sent back, pushing the Force to start healing the boy.  _‘Everything will be fine.  Rest.’_

 

      And Obi-Wan did, head nestled against Qui-Gon’s chest as he dropped into the healing trance Qui-Gon placed him in.

 

      _‘Let him be okay,’_ Qui-Gon thought fervently as he gently cradled the boy in his arms.  _‘Please let him be okay.’_

 

**Finished!  Reaching Bandomeer in next chapter.  And Xanatos appears.**

**Leave a review!**


	5. Bandomeer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Summary: They've reached Bandomeer but things are looking grim. With an invitation from Xanatos that might or might not be a trap and Obi-Wan still recovering, events are about to take a sharp turn into the unknown. Yet despite all odds, during his time there, maybe Obi-Wan can finally make his first major change for a better future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Star Wars...

** Chapter 5 – Bandomeer **

 

      _I have been looking forward to this day._

 

      Qui-Gon had lost count of the number of times he had gone over the message but that, and his memories, had been the only things to keep him company for the last few days.

 

      They had finally reached Bandomeer, a little worse for wear but in one piece.

 

      Mostly.

 

      Qui-Gon glanced up at the sleep-couch next to him.  They had been quartered in the guest chamber of the Bandomeer governor’s official residence.  Upon their arrival, Qui-Gon had informed said governor that the boy was simply resting after a hard journey, not wanting to have Obi-Wan carted off for examination.  Bandomeer medical facilities weren’t places Qui-Gon wanted to spend more time than necessary in.

 

      But it had been three days and while there had been life at the other end of their bond, Obi-Wan had yet to wake up.

 

      Qui-Gon had debated on whether or not he should contact Yoda but had decided against it in the end.  Yoda would ask after his mission and Qui-Gon would have to tell the Master about Xanatos.  The letter could be a mere taunt, a cruel game his former Padawan was playing with him, and it wouldn’t do to involve the Council in it.

 

      There had also been the nightmares to worry about, visions perhaps but nothing that was clear to him.

 

      And worst of all, he had been spending the past few days waiting for Obi-Wan to wake up because on some level, Qui-Gon wanted the boy’s advice, to ask what Obi-Wan thought of it all.

 

      It was unsettling how much Qui-Gon counted on the boy’s judgement.  Perhaps it was because they had been through everything from pirates to draigons together and Obi-Wan had yet to let him down but Qui-Gon was hard-pressed to retract the trust he had given him.  Now that he was more amenable towards the boy, no longer trying to look for Xanatos in the twelve-year-old, Obi-Wan’s steady presence was something he instinctively knew he could depend on.  The boy’s puzzling affinity with the Force didn’t hurt matters either.

 

      _‘Do you always brood so much, Master?’_

 

      Qui-Gon started, gaze snapping to Obi-Wan’s still face as their bond sparked.  _‘Obi-Wan?’_

 

      A hmm of acknowledgement followed.  _‘Sorry, you were broadcasting.  I think you might want to put up some shields on your end until you can cut the bond.’_

 

      A part of Qui-Gon flinched at the very thought.  He had first laid eyes on Obi-Wan when the boy was nine and Yoda had dragged him to the Initiates’ side of the Temple.  Though he had refused to accept it, he knew the bond had already been formed back then.

 

      _‘That won’t be necessary,’_ Qui-Gon replied, drawing closer to the sleep-couch.  He paused, and then amended neutrally, _‘Unless you wish to, in which case-”_

 

      _‘Master,’_ Obi-Wan cut him off, voice quiet but somber.  _‘I have wanted to be your Padawan for a very long time.  ...I mean you do realize what this would mean if you don’t break it, don’t you?’_

 

      Qui-Gon was silent for a long while.  Could he risk it?  Could he take on another Padawan when he had sworn not to do so ever again?  Obi-Wan was very mature for his age; sometimes, Qui-Gon almost forgot it was a twelve-year-old he was interacting with.  Obi-Wan wouldn’t have to depend on him entirely for guidance, and while it was a selfish thought, Qui-Gon couldn’t help but be grateful for that.  Someone with a good sense of right and wrong would be easier to take care of.  Yet... what if he failed, again?  What if Obi-Wan turned and Qui-Gon would, once again, be helpless to stop it?

 

      _‘You’re brooding again, Master,’_ Obi-Wan interrupted, cutting through the doubts that swirled in Qui-Gon’s mind.  _‘You don’t have to decide right away.  I think I'm just grateful you're thinking about it at all.’_

 

      Qui-Gon heaved a sigh.  It wasn’t fair to the boy that he could be giving him false hope.  _‘I apologize, Obi-Wan.’_

 

      “S’okay,”

 

Qui-Gon straightened when Obi-Wan replied out loud, eyelids fluttering open as he finally woke up.

 

“Obi-Wan?”  Qui-Gon rose to his feet, peering down as the boy stretched.

 

Obi-Wan offered him a tired smile.  “Do you have some water?”

 

Qui-Gon was already reaching for the bottle he had placed within easy reach.  Helping him sit up, Qui-Gon frowned at the trembles that wracked Obi-Wan’s frame as sipped at the liquid.

 

“Just tired,” Obi-Wan answered his unspoken question.  “Leave me alone for a week and I’ll be fine.”

 

Qui-Gon just frowned harder.  “What is wrong with you?”  He asked, his words softened with concern.  “Is it... psychic shock?”  He was no healer and Obi-Wan’s case wasn’t exactly common.

 

Obi-Wan shook his head.  “Used up too much energy,” He explained, leaning back against the arm of the couch before adding dryly, “No pirates or draigons to fend off back at the Temple.”

 

Qui-Gon cracked a smile.  “True, though I would think the Masters there provide sufficient practice.”  
  


Obi-Wan released a raspy laugh, fatigue clouding his features but looking better than he had overall.

 

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes but Qui-Gon couldn’t help asking in the end.  “Obi-Wan, that vision you sent me, of the cliff, it _was_ a vision, was it not?”

 

Obi-Wan glanced over at him, oddly apathetic for a long moment before nodding once.  “I am somewhat prescient,” He revealed, though Qui-Gon had the distinct feeling that Obi-Wan was holding something back.  “Have been for quite a while now.”

 

Qui-Gon nodded thoughtfully.  He didn’t particularly like dwelling on dreams but Obi-Wan’s vision had been exceptionally clear, and the boy had obviously known its importance when he had shown it to Qui-Gon.

 

“Do you think you could get up?”  He asked now.  “We have a meeting with the governor soon.  I’ve told her you were resting but she’ll want to see you.”

 

Obi-Wan nodded in return but his gaze turned inward, looking at something Qui-Gon couldn’t see.  He had seen this expression once before, on that day in the wating area outside the training room, yet he still had no idea what to make of it.

 

“I’ll get dressed,” Obi-Wan threw back the blankets, hands shaking with the effort, and Qui-Gon almost ordered him back to bed.  But the boy was on his feet soon enough, and Qui-Gon found himself helping him to the ’fresher with a set of clean clothes.

 

Waiting until the door closed, Qui-Gon picked up the letter Xanatos had sent him.

 

_I have been looking forward to this day._

 

Qui-Gon really couldn’t say the same.

 

***WotF***

 

      The meeting with the Bandomeer governor went exactly as Obi-Wan expected.  The golden threads had stopped shifting for now though each still led to a dozen different outcomes that this mission could end in.

 

      It wasn’t a comforting thought.

 

      “I will be going to the Eastern Enrichment Zone after all?”  Obi-Wan enquired aloud, standing quietly near the door of their temporary quarters.

 

      He watched Qui-Gon hesitate before nodding firmly.  “You are not to get involved,” The Master said firmly, though it lacked the dismissal Obi-Wan had heard the last time Qui-Gon had said it.  “It is too dangerous, and you are still recuperating.”

 

      Obi-Wan knew Qui-Gon still half-expected him to protest but he had no time for that.  The Force was getting restless again, worried about the future, about the Dark, about the result of this mission, and it was making Obi-Wan’s head throb.

 

      With a mental grimace, he sank down into the nearest chair, dropping his head into his hands.

 

      He jumped when a hand dropped gently on top of his head but relaxed almost at once when he recognized Qui-Gon.

 

      “Obi-Wan, are you certain you will be alright?”  Qui-Gon’s eyes had darkened with worry.  “I cannot help you if I don’t understand your condition.”  
  


      Obi-Wan smiled in spite of his exhaustion.  It was amazing what life-or-death situations could do for relationships.

 

      “I’m fine,” He assured, pulling himself upright.  “I’m just tired.  Honestly, a bit more rest and I’ll be back to normal.”

 

      Some of the tension seeped out of Qui-Gon’s shoulders but they still seemed heavy with apprehension.  Obi-Wan’s eyes flickered to the bag where he knew his Master had stored Xanatos’ missive.

 

      He would have to play his cards carefully.  Qui-Gon couldn’t find out about his gift just yet, and while the Master seemed to know Obi-Wan was hiding something, he was also convinced of Obi-Wan’s prescience.  That would have to do for now.

 

      Since he had first glimpsed Bandomeer in the other world, Obi-Wan had spent long hours meditating on it and had finally decided that preventing as many deaths as possible would be his first goal, preventing Xanatos’ escape would be his second.  Hopefully, he would be able to do both.

 

      “I would like to come with you,” Obi-Wan said and forged on before Qui-Gon could object.  “But I know you will not agree,” He paused, trying to find the right words.  He couldn’t reveal everything; the futures were shaking and if he told Qui-Gon outright, the man would either not believe him and anything else Obi-Wan said would be doubted, or he _would_ believe him and work according to Obi-Wan’s visions.  There wasn’t a single future down that path that didn’t end up with Bandomeer blown out of the galaxy.

 

      “Then could you promise me one thing?”  Obi-Wan stared hard at his Master whose features were completely emotionless now.  “Evacuate the Home Planet Mine, before you meet with Offworld.  Clear the main administration building as well, and the dwellings surrounding the mine.  Can you do this?”

 

      Qui-Gon studied him for a long, strained moment, and Obi-Wan gritted his teeth as the golden strands wavered, pulsing one after the other as they waited for Qui-Gon to make a choice.  Would his Master make a leap of faith here?  Trust Obi-Wan on his word alone?  Or had the events on the _Monument_ and on the island not been enough?

 

      “Something will happen?”  Qui-Gon enquired, eyes narrowed.

 

      Obi-Wan nodded, hands clenching unconsciously.

 

      “And you can’t tell me?”

 

      A vehement shake of his head.  “It’s... not clear.”  That was as close to the truth as he could get.

 

      The silence stretched far into painful but Obi-Wan couldn’t look away.  Even if Qui-Gon refused, he wouldn’t look away.  He wouldn’t back down, not in this.

 

      “Very well.”

 

      It actually took a few seconds for the affirmative to sink in and by then, Qui-Gon had already turned away again, resuming his packing.

 

“Wait-” Obi-Wan staggered to his feet, gaping openly as all the golden threads save one snapped and disintegrated.  The only one left forked in dozens of different directions, almost blinding in their intensity as they waited for the next choices to be made.  “Yes?”

 

Qui-Gon paused, glancing back at him with a sardonic expression.  “And here I thought I would never be able to surprise you.”

 

Obi-Wan’s mouth snapped shut and he spent the next few moments watching Qui-Gon gather his belongings.

 

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon shouldered his pack before picking up Obi-Wan’s as well.  “If it is important enough that you would insist on an evacuation, I would rather not risk something happening to all those miners.”  His expression became stern.  “But do keep in mind that visions aren’t always dependable.”

 

“Oh,” That made sense.  Obi-Wan smiled.  “Yes, Master, I will.  And thanks, Master.”

 

Qui-Gon gave him a mild look of amusement.  “I agreed to save lives, Obi-Wan.  It’s what Jedi do after all.”

 

***WotF***

 

      As he watched a black plume of smoke rise towards the grey skies, Qui-Gon sent a burst of heartfelt thanks down the mental link to Obi-Wan.  He was pretty sure the boy wouldn’t be able to respond at this distance but it would have to do for now until Qui-Gon could thank him properly.  Had Obi-Wan not asked him to evacuate the mines, hundreds of miners would be dead right now and they would be clearing out bodies instead of rubble.

 

      “How did you know?”  Clat’Ha stepped up beside him, relief in her voice as she kept a wary eye on the distant figure of Xanatos.  “SonTag almost didn’t go through with it but I bet she’s thankful now.”

 

      “Jedi have visions,” Qui-Gon replied, purposefully vague.  It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Clat’Ha; the woman had proven herself ten times over, but he’d rather not let any attention fall on Obi-Wan at the moment, especially with Xanatos in the vicinity.

 

      “Well maybe you’ll have one of Offworld sabotaging our mines,” Clat’Ha said almost hopefully, fingering her blaster.

 

      Qui-Gon said nothing, keeping an eye VeerTa in case she decided to attack Xanatos again.

 

      “Qui-Gon!”

 

      He turned to find SonTag striding towards them, a grimace painting her features.  VeerTa came with her and Qui-Gon watched as Xanatos disappeared from view, heading in the opposite direction.

 

      “We have news of the cause,” SonTag announced softly.  “It wasn’t Offworld.  There was a mixture of gases in a sub-level tunnel.”

 

      VeerTa gritted her teeth.  “That’s impossible!”  She spat out.  “We have sensors-”

 

      “The sensor was inoperative,” SonTag said.  “Strictly a mechanical failure.  The engineers are certain of it.”

 

      “So it’s our fault?”  VeerTa asked numbly as Clat’Ha stared in disbelief.

 

      “I’m afraid so,” SonTag nodded.  “Unless someone sabotaged the sensor...?”

 

      VeerTa shook her head.  “The mine is under twenty-four hour guard,” She shuddered.  “If Qui-Gon hadn’t warned us, we’d have lost so many people.”  
  


      “Well, there’s something else,” SonTag glanced over her shoulder at where Xanatos had been.  “Xanatos has offered the resources of Offworld to help rebuild the mine.  Money, droids, anything we want to get the mine back up again.”

 

      “So he was sincere,” VeerTa said, surprised.

 

      Qui-Gon looked away, careful to keep his face blank.

 

      _I can take care of myself for the time being, Master; don’t worry about me.  Be careful._

 

      Those had been the last words Obi-Wan had sent to him over their bond before Qui-Gon had seen him off but they rang forebodingly in his mind.  Obi-Wan was going off to the Eastern Base; surely there wouldn’t be any danger there.

 

      But Obi-Wan had implied it, and if there was one thing Qui-Gon had learned about the boy, it was that Obi-Wan never did anything without reason.  He was far too careful for that.

 

      Qui-Gon knew Xanatos was playing games with him so he understood the very real danger here, but what did that have to do with the Eastern Enrichment Zone?

 

      “Qui-Gon?  We’re heading in,” SonTag called and Qui-Gon nodded his acquiescence, following them inside even as he wracked his mind for the pieces of this puzzle.

 

***WotF***

 

      “Obi-Wan?”

 

      Obi-Wan blinked, stirring from his meditative state at Si’s voice.

 

      “Si,” He smiled, rolling his shoulders to release any remaining stiffness.  “Lunchtime?”

 

      The Arconan nodded, two trays of food balanced in his hands as he joined Obi-Wan on the grass.

 

      Obi-Wan had refrained from poking around.  He already knew what he would find here and he didn’t need to drag Si all over the place for no reason.

 

      “We think you are up to something again,” Si observed.

 

      Obi-Wan shot his friend a wry look.  “Si, you should know by now that I am always up to something.”

 

      “True,” Si agreed easily.  “But we think you are up to something dangerous.  You have that look.”

 

      “I do not have a look,” Obi-Wan denied indignantly.

 

      Si grinned.  “You do.  We recognize it after all the times you had it on during our trip to Bandomeer.”

 

      Obi-Wan rolled his eyes but cracked a matching grin as they dug into their meals again.  He could afford to have a little fun before Xanatos arrived.

 

***WotF***

 

      “Maybe we should come with you,” Si suggested nervously.

 

      Obi-Wan shook his head as he checked his ’saber.  “I need you to stay here.  If I don’t come back tomorrow, you have to contact Master Jinn for me.”

 

      Si hesitated but nodded reluctantly in the end.  “All we must tell him is ‘Offworld is involved with the AgriCorps and Xanatos’ mark is on a box inside an area in the annex sectioned off with the Force’.  I hope you realize that we barely understand half of this message.”

 

      Obi-Wan tossed a grim smile in his direction.  “Better that you don’t.  Then you’ll have deniability rights.  Besides, with any luck, you won’t have to repeat it to anyone.  I’ll be back by dawn.”

 

      “And if you are not?”  Si demanded as he followed Obi-Wan to the door.  “Do we tell Master Jinn that you are missing?  I suppose he will take this very well.”

 

      Obi-Wan smothered a smirk.  He should’ve expected Si to learn sarcasm from him.  At the doorway, he turned back and considered his words.

 

      “Tell him...” Obi-Wan wavered.  “Tell him to remember what I said right before we parted ways.  And then tell him ‘five years’.  Can you do that?”

 

      Si nodded solemnly.  “Be safe, Obi-Wan.  We will be waiting for your return.”

 

      Obi-Wan shot him a last smile and then slipped out into the night.  If everything went according to his plan, he would capture Xanatos tonight.

 

***WotF***

 

      Slipping through the door into the annex, Obi-Wan waited with bated breath for the footsteps that would signal Xanatos’ arrival.  Sure enough, seconds later, a noise sounded behind him and he whirled, cloak flaring around him as he looked upon his Master’s second Padawan for the first time in real life.

 

      The Force pulsed uneasily around him, drawing away from Xanatos as darkness ran through it, making Obi-Wan shiver.

 

      “Who are you?”  He asked if only to keep up appearances.

 

      “A friend,” The hooded figure replied.  “Someone who was once just like you.  I used to be his apprentice too.”  He threw off his hood.  His blue gaze was warm and friendly.  Obi-Wan felt sick.

 

      “I’m not really Qui-Gon’s Padawan,” Obi-Wan said instead.  The thought still hurt, but not as much.  Qui-Gon had finally opened up to him, at least a little.  “And everyone says his last Padawan died.”

 

      “Is that what they say?”  Xanatos asked.  “Yet here I am.  What else do they say?”

 

      “That Qui-Gon’s Padawan disgraced the Jedi,” Obi-Wan answered steadily, gauging the man’s expression.  “And betrayed Qui-Gon.”

 

      Xanatos’ eyes burned with blue fire.  “Is that Qui-Gon’s story?”

 

      It bothered him, Obi-Wan could tell.  No wonder Qui-Gon was always so worried about arrogance; Xanatos was full of it.  He hated being seen in the wrong.

 

      “I was his Padawan,” Xanatos continued, the hard lines on his face easing.  “So I know what you go through every day, Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

 

      Obi-Wan was hard-pressed not to scoff.  He very much doubted Xanatos knew what he went through each day.

 

      “I know what you wait for.  His approval.  His trust.  But he keeps both from you.  He keeps a skin of ice around himself.  The more you try to please him, the farther away he goes.”

 

      Xanatos’ voice seeped into Obi-Wan’s ears like grease, and he could sense the Force-manipulation in his words.  The Force surrounding Obi-Wan instantly reared, offended, and subtly ensconced him within its protective hold, barring Xanatos from reaching Obi-Wan without letting the man know.

 

      Xanatos continued, oblivious to the annoyance welling up inside Obi-Wan.  “Yoda praises him.  The Galactic Senate depends on him.  Everyone vies to be his apprentice.  But he is the worst kind of Master.  He denies you his trust.  Yet he demands everything of you.”

 

      Obi-Wan pursed his lips, staying silent.  In all honesty, Xanatos merely sounded jealous and childishly angry.

 

      “I am Xanatos,” The man took a step forward, blue eyes drilling into his.  “Did he ever mention me to you?”

 

      Obi-Wan shook his head.  _And why would he?_   He thought bitterly.  _You betrayed him and very near broke him._

 

      Xanatos gave a sad, rueful smile, one that Obi-Wan could almost believe.

 

      “No,” The man said softly.  “He would not.  He built me up, kept me by his side, always with the promise that I would advance.  Yet, in the end, he broke every promise.  It will happen to you too, Obi-Wan.”

 

      Obi-Wan tilted his head, meeting Xanatos’ gaze evenly.  “Are you sure it wasn’t you who broke every promise you made to him?”

 

      Xanatos’ eyes immediately flashed with suppressed anger before softening with understanding.  “Of course, you would believe Qui-Gon’s lies.  Has he promised to consider being your Master?”

 

      Obi-Wan stiffened.  That was actually true.

 

      Xanatos leapt on his reaction with the eagerness of a Hutt to money.  “And you think he will keep his promise?”  He shook his head sympathetically.  “He will only leave you in the end, Obi-Wan.  He isn’t worth anything you give him.”

 

      Obi-Wan released a quiet sigh and then drew his lightsaber in one smooth motion.  “Qui-Gon has his faults, I won’t deny that.  But you shouldn't blame him for the wrong choices you made in your life.  Take responsibility for your own actions for once.”  He paused, examining the growing mix of disbelief and cold fury in Xanatos’ eyes before saying simply, “To me, he is worth everything I can give him.  That includes my loyalty.  Now, if you'll be so kind as to stay still and let me knock you out, it’ll make my night.”

 

      Xanatos remained silent for a moment longer before releasing a bark of humourless laughter.  His expression twisted into something ugly and hard, and with a wave of his hand, five security officers burst in, blasters drawn.  Another second and Xanatos had pulled out his own lightsaber.

 

      “Well,” He drawled, blue eyes no longer kind.  “I was planning to have this go a different way but I see Qui-Gon has already affected you too deeply.  It really is too bad.  Had I been able to twist that loyalty to me, I daresay I might have even found an apprentice of my own.”

 

      “I think not,” Obi-Wan offered a flat smile and then sent the Force, already more than eager to rid Obi-Wan of his enemies, roaring forward, rippling the very air as it slammed into the five unsuspecting officers.  The men dropped like stones, unconscious before they hit the ground.

 

      The immediate fatigue that followed was worth the thunderstruck astonishment that Xanatos was unable to hide for a fleeting second.  Obi-Wan swiftly sent another wave at the man, hoping to knock him out as well, but Xanatos wasn’t a prodigy for nothing.  Rolling out of the way, the man leapt forward with lethal intent, and before Obi-Wan could blink, he found himself engaged in battle against him.

 

      On hindsight, he supposed taking on Xanatos was plain egotistical on his part.  He had depended on the Force and his gift for so long that he had ended up seeing more of the future than the present, and he knew Xanatos would not kill him here.

 

      _Maybe Qui-Gon was right_ , Obi-Wan thought grimly as he ducked a slash and parried a blow.  He managed to strike Xanatos’ briefly unprotected side, leaving behind a deep bloody gash, but that was all.  _I may be just a little overconfident._

 

      He gathered the Force and tried to trip Xanatos up but the man only batted the attempt away and bore down on him again, a cruel smile twisting his lips.

 

      “You might have made something of yourself with that talent,” Xanatos jeered.  “It is a pity all of it is wasted on the likes of Qui-Gon Jinn.  You are nothing more than a waste of space if you side with him.”

 

      Obi-Wan didn’t respond to the taunt; he had bigger things to worry about.  Stumbling back as a particularly strong slash knocked his ’saber out of his hands, he only had time to grimace before Xanatos was bearing down on him, the butt of his lightsaber swinging in from his blind spot.

 

      _Damn_ , Obi-Wan thought as pain exploded in his head and darkness crept into his vision.  _Si is going to be pissed_.

 

      And then he knew no more.

 

***WotF***

 

      Qui-Gon’s visit to Offworld Headquarters had proven to be somewhat fruitful.  Bypassing the security had taken a little while; Xanatos had always been clever and covering the transparisteel of his office with the special coating recently developed on Telos was exactly that.

 

      And the two broken circles that formed the initials of Offworld Corporation.  It seemed that Xanatos controlled Offworld after all.  His former Padawan had always preferred stealth and trickery to achieve his goals and secretly owning such a large company would give him more room to manoeuvre.

 

      All he had to find out now was what Xanatos was after.

 

***WotF***

 

      _“So Xanatos could be planning a great evil, you say,”_ Yoda said.  _“That you have discovered this is good, Qui-Gon.  Yet time to react, it is not.”_

 

      “But I suspect he might be planning to take over Bandomeer,” Qui-Gon protested.

 

      _“Slowly, you must move,”_ Yoda said adamantly.  _“Proof of a plan you do not have.  Read the files, you could not.”_

 

      “I can read him.  Xanatos.”

 

      _“So certain, are you?  Certain you always were about him.”_

 

      Qui-Gon knew a rebuke when he heard it but Yoda wasn’t finished.

 

      _"You have pushed aside your past for too long, Qui-Gon.  Running from it, you are.  Yet you can run a little longer before you turn and fight.  Play along for now, you will.  Give him room to make a mistake.  Slip he will.  The trick is to wait for it."_

 

      “Yes,” Qui-Gon conceded with a sigh.  “I understand.”  He began signing off, but Yoda held up a hand.

 

      _“Qui-Gon, one last thing I have,”_ Yoda peered at him from the screen, unusually stern.  _“Young Obi-Wan, where is he?”_

 

      Qui-Gon blinked.  “I sent him to the Eastern Environmental Zone.  I’m keeping him out of danger.”

 

      He expected a reprimand; Yoda had been trying to get Qui-Gon to accept Obi-Wan as his Padawan for years now.  Instead, the troll sighed in an almost defeated way.

 

      _“Keep him out of danger, you cannot,”_ Yoda said, his words ominous.  _“Only protect him to your best ability, you can.  Needs you, he does, Qui-Gon.  And need him, you do.  Independent, Obi-Wan can be.  Independent, Obi-Wan has_ had _to be.  But change this, perhaps you can.”_

 

      Qui-Gon frowned, trying to make sense of what the old Master was saying.  “Are you saying he’s in some kind of danger?”  He tried to keep the spark of worry that had been nudging at him ever since he had sent Obi-Wan away out of his voice.

 

      Yoda’s eyes sharpened.  _“Worrying about your apprentice, are you?”_

 

      “I have not accepted him as my Padawan yet, Master,” Qui-Gon replied coolly, and then mentally winced when Yoda’s smile became sly.

 

      _“‘Yet’, Qui-Gon?”_

 

      Qui-Gon scowled irritably at the meddling old troll.  “Goodbye, Master.”  And he signed off to the sound of Yoda’s quiet cackles.

 

  1. Dread pooled in his stomach; he had long since learned that _anyone_ pounding on doors equalled bad news.



 

      Clat'Ha stood in the hallway.  Her sleek red hair was awry and her green eyes were full of worry.

 

"Si Treemba just contacted me with news," She said.  "Obi-Wan has disappeared."

 

***WotF***

 

      Si Treemba had a message for Qui-Gon, to be delivered only to him, and the Arconan had refused to say a word until he reached the Eastern Environmental Zone, which was where Qui-Gon was heading now.

 

      But first, he had a former Padawan to confront.

 

      He had no substantial proof that Xanatos was involved but every one of his instincts was telling him that this was true.  Yoda had told him not to confront Xanatos directly, and Qui-Gon really should contact the Council for further instruction, but he was tired of being played with.  Now that Xanatos had taken Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon couldn’t just stand aside any longer.

 

      It took all his patience to wait outside Offworld’s largest azurite mine on the outskirts of Bandor until dusk but he reminded himself of Obi-Wan’s words, that the boy could take care of himself until Qui-Gon arrived, and it wouldn’t do any good to charge off like a fresh Padawan with only partial information.

 

      Finally, he saw Xanatos leave the small cramped administration building nearby, and with all the miners and workers retired for the night, he and Xanatos were alone.

 

      Stepping out into his former Padawan’s path, Qui-Gon observed the lack of surprise on Xanatos’ face.  His apprentice would never allow an open display of emotion if he could help it.

 

      Qui-Gon didn’t waste time beating around the bush.  “Where’s the boy?” He asked frankly.

 

      Xanatos flung one side of his cloak behind him.  His hand rested casually on the hilt of a lightsaber as he smiled humourlessly at him.

 

      “Ah, is he so important to you, Qui-Gon?”  Xanatos began to circle him.  “Yet I distinctly remember the hard man I know you to be.  After all, we were friends at the end, more than Master and Padawan.”

 

      “Yes,” Qui-Gon agreed, tracking him, moving with him.  “We were.”

 

      "All the more reason for you to betray me,” Xanatos sneered.  “To you, friendship is nothing.  You enjoyed my suffering."

 

      "The betrayal was yours,” Qui-Gon replied calmly even as his heart clenched painfully.  “As was the enjoyment of suffering.  That is what you discovered on Telos.”

 

      The sneer grew more pronounced.  “Yes, your new apprentice thought much the same,” Xanatos revealed offhandedly.  “What was it again?”  His voice pitched to a spiteful mockery of Obi-Wan’s voice.  “‘To me, he is worth everything I can give him.  That includes my loyalty.’”  Xanatos scoffed and drew his lightsaber in the same breath.  “Isn’t that sweet?”

 

      Qui-Gon’s jaw tightened but the ache in his heart involuntarily lightened at the words.  What exactly had he done to earn something like that from Obi-Wan?

 

      “Enough,” He growled softly, igniting his own ’saber.  “Tell me where he is.”

 

      “I think not,” Xanatos denied, and then they both shot forward, clashing together in a flash of light.

 

      Xanatos had not lost his fighting edge.  He had only grown more powerful, moving with economy and grace.

 

      But Qui-Gon had taught this man since he had been a child.  Their lightsabers tangled, buzzing furiously.  Qui-Gon felt the charge in his arm, but didn't waver.  Xanatos kicked out with a foot, but Qui-Gon was expecting it, and moved aside.  Xanatos lost his balance, almost falling, but recovered in time.

 

      "Your footwork has always been your weakness," Qui-Gon remarked dryly as he dealt a blow to Xanatos' shoulder.  Xanatos twisted away, but not before Qui-Gon saw him grimace with pain.

 

      Perhaps it was the taunt or the fact that Qui-Gon had finally caused him real pain, but a heartbeat later, Xanatos had whirled the other side of his cape behind his shoulder and a second lightsaber was suddenly in his hand.

 

      Qui-Gon had already known Xanatos had Obi-Wan so the boy’s ’saber didn’t cause more than a slight stirring of annoyance on Obi-Wan’s behalf.  Instead, his gaze was drawn to the scorch mark in Xanatos’ side, still healing.

 

      “Yes, a lucky blow courtesy of your new Padawan,” Xanatos said, catching the focus of Qui-Gon’s attention.  “His performance in battle is commendable.  Pity he’s wasted it all on you.”

 

      _No,_ not _a pity,_ Qui-Gon thought, a sudden but fierce pride flooding his chest as he pressed forward.

 

      He was fighting the past.  His past.  Perhaps he could defeat Xanatos, but the battle would not be won.  Only the future mattered now.  Obi-Wan was the future.

 

The past could wait.

 

Qui-Gon paused, knowing Xanatos was ready to escalate the fight.  Ready to deliver a death blow if he could.

 

Suddenly, Xanatos whirled around, took three long steps toward the slag heap in the clearing, and pushed himself off, flying through the air with both lightsabers slashing toward Qui-Gon, every muscle ready to drive the blow home.

 

He met empty air.  Qui-Gon twisted away, grabbing Obi-Wan's lightsaber from Xanatos' unprepared grip.

 

Then, for the first time in his life, Qui-Gon ran from battle.  He had to find Obi-Wan.  The cold wind whistled past his ears as he crossed the mine yard at top speed.

 

He heard Xanatos' voice rise from the mist.

 

"Run, coward!  But you can't escape me!"

 

"It appears that I have!"  Qui-Gon shouted back, mouth twitching despite the situation.  Obi-Wan would’ve found it amusing as well.  The boy found the strangest things comical.

 

Xanatos' laugh was chilling.  "Only for now, Qui-Gon.  Only for now."

 

***WotF***

 

      "Do you think you could get me into the explosives room?  There’s a box with a broken circle on it in there."

 

      Obi-Wan stepped out onto the metal deck and stared down at Guerra.  The Phindian who had half-befriended him looked back with a mixture of disbelief and amusement.

 

      "I hope that's a joke, Obawan,” Guerra bounced up.  “You get thrown off the platform for stealing!"

 

      "I'm not going to steal anything," Obi-Wan promised. "I just want to look."

 

Guerra smiled.  "Great idea, Obawan!  Let's go!"  He lay down again.  "No so, I lie.  I stick out my neck for nobody, remember?"

 

Obi-Wan tilted his head.  "What if I knew a way to dismantle your electro-collar?  We could steal a boat and make it back to the mainland."

 

Guerra gave him a sidelong look.  "If this is true, why does your collar hum, my friend?"

 

"I can do it," Obi-Wan said.  "I just need to heal a bit more."

 

"I trust no one," Guerra said softly.  "Ever.  That's why after three years I am still alive."

 

Obi-Wan gazed steadily at him before reaching out with one hand.  His head still throbbed and the Force warned him that he would not be able to this again anytime soon but he needed to gain Guerra’s trust.

 

Touching the collar, he focused the Force into it, carefully manipulating the circuits, and with a twist of his wrist, the collar flashed once and fell silent.

 

Head reeling, Obi-Wan barely noticed Guerra jerk upright, gawking openly at him in unconcealed amazement.

 

“Will you help me now?”  Obi-Wan asked again.

 

Guerra gingerly touched his collar as if expecting it to explode.  “It is a trick?”  He breathed, eyes wide.

 

“No trick,” Obi-Wan denied.

 

Guerra stalled, frowning a little.  "The guard will never give up the keys.  It's against regulations."

 

"Just leave that up to me," Obi-Wan said.

 

***WotF***

 

      "I need to do some extra checking," Guerra told the guard.  "I need the keys."

 

The guard rose, lifting his electro-jabber in a threatening gesture.  "Get lost or you're over the side!"

 

A part of Obi-Wan’s mind scoffed at the repetitive threat.

 

"That might not be a bad idea," He said instead, layering his voice with the Force.  "We should check the supplies again."

 

"Might not be a bad idea," The guard repeated tonelessly, tossing Guerra the electronic keys.  "Check the supplies again."

 

Guerra stared at Obi-Wan.  "What did you do, Obawan?"

 

"Never mind," Obi-Wan said wearily. "Hurry."

 

Guerra led him to the explosives' room.  He opened the door and Obi-Wan hurried inside, making a beeline for the box.  He couldn’t open it without alerting the guards but...

 

Pulling a chunk of the ionite he had slipped into his pocket from the mines when no one was looking, he slipped it behind the box, using the Force to magnify its effect.  The ionite was small, the supply in this mine nowhere near as large as the one Qui-Gon would’ve been in but it had been mixed in with the azurite and he could tell the difference between the two.  Hopefully, it would be enough to stop the device.

 

“I hear footsteps," Guerra whispered from behind him.  "They're running.  It's the guards!  Must be a silent alarm on the door."

 

Obi-Wan stood up calmly, job done.  “I know.”

 

Guerra gave him a wide-eyed look before shouting, “He's in here! I found him!"  He turned to Obi-Wan sadly.  "Even though I'm in danger, I would never betray a friend.  So-"

 

"Not so," Obi-Wan finished for him as the guards rushed in.  With the last of his strength, he threw a Force-illusion over Guerra’s collar to make it look like it was still working.  He didn’t even flinch when the first guard brought his electro-jabber down on Obi-Wan.  Pain and exhaustion sent him crashing to his knees.  He felt himself being carried to the lockup and thrown in.

 

“Penalty for stealing is being thrown overboard," He heard a guard say.

 

"My shift is over," The other one replied with a yawn.  "Tomorrow morning is soon enough."

 

***WotF***

 

      “Where is Si Treemba?”  Qui-Gon demanded as he strode into the Enrichment Dome.

 

The Meerian sent to meet him hurried forward.  "I am RonTha.  I'm happy to welcome-"

 

      “Where is Si Treemba?”  Qui-Gon interrupted crisply, trying to keep the impatience from his voice.

 

      “Here, Master Jinn,” Si Treemba darted out to meet them, exhaustion lining his features.

 

      “You have a message for me?”  Qui-Gon asked, his tone softening slightly.

 

      Si Treemba nodded.  “Obi-Wan said ‘Offworld is involved with the AgriCorps and Xanatos’ mark is on a box inside an area in the annex sectioned off with the Force.’”  He peered up at Qui-Gon.  “We are told you would know what he meant.”

 

      Qui-Gon nodded absently.  He had already found out about Offworld’s involvement with the AgriCorps and Xanatos’ mark must mean the broken circle, which proved Xanatos’ personal involvement, though what other significance it had he wasn’t sure.  And the area sectioned off with the Force would most likely be the same as the one he had found in Xanatos’ office.

 

      “Did he say anything else?”  Qui-Gon asked hopefully.  Perhaps Obi-Wan had left a clue for him to follow.

 

      Si Treemba nodded once more.  “He also said to tell you to remember what he said right before you parted ways.  And ‘five years’.”

 

      Qui-Gon frowned.  Obi-Wan had said he could take care of himself for the time being, which could mean the boy was alright for now but would need help soon.  He shook his head.  He had no idea why he was reading so much into Obi-Wan’s words.

 

      “‘Five years’?”  He enquired instead, disappointed.  “I have no idea what that means.”

 

      Si Treemba hesitated before offering, “Actually, we think he might mean the deep sea mines.  We have thought over this for a long time.  We were to tell you this if he did not return.  If he did not return, he would give a clue as to where he would be taken, no?”

 

      Qui-Gon stared.  _Of course.  Where better to hide Obi-Wan than on a deep sea mining platform?_

 

"Find me an AgriCorps boat," Qui-Gon ordered RonTha.

 

"But it is against proto-" RonTha's voice faltered under the impact of Qui-Gon's icy glare.

 

"Yes, immediately," He agreed meekly.

 

***WotF***

 

      Qui-Gon gritted his teeth as he gunned the motor, eyes focused entirely on the slight figure of Obi-Wan on the edge of the platform with guards prodding at his back.  He was still too far away; his only hope was that Obi-Wan would survive the fall, and he'd be able to pick him up.

 

      Heart contracting in pain, Qui-Gon opened their bond as far as possible, crying out down the link.  _‘Obi-Wan!’_

 

      He waited with bated breath for an answer, any answer.  And it came.

 

      _‘Master, what took you so long?’_

 

      Qui-Gon couldn’t decide whether to scold or throttle the boy for sounding so flippant when he was about to jump to his death.  _‘Is now really the time to joke?’_

 

      A thrum of quiet laughter trilled down their bond.  _‘What better time is there?  When I die, Master, I promise you I will die with a smile on my face.’_

 

      Qui-Gon could barely breathe.  What was the boy spouting?

 

      _‘But not today,’_ Obi-Wan added almost as an afterthought.  _‘Look below me.’_

 

      Grabbing a pair of electrobinoculars, Qui-Gon looked first at Obi-Wan before trailing his gaze downwards.

 

      Someone had fashioned a kind sling out of a spun carbon tarp.  He was tying it to the struts that supported the main platform.  As Qui-Gon watched, two long, flexible arms shot out, positioning the sling in midair.

 

      _‘Meet you inside, Master,’_ Obi-Wan promised, and then he was falling, face grim but composed, free of terror, already so like a Jedi.  There was an escape route, true, but any normal twelve-year-old would still be panicking.

 

      _Then again_ , Qui-Gon thought sardonically as he sped closer to the platform.  _Obi-Wan has never been normal._

 

He watched as Obi-Wan seemed to grab on to thin air and pull himself to the left, shifting in mid-fall.  He bounced onto the middle of the sling.  In another second, long arms shot out and pulled Obi-Wan to safety.

 

As the guards shouted in fury, Qui-Gon pulled up, bobbing in the sea as he quickly threw carbon-rope over one of the struts and tied the craft securely.  Then he threw another rope on the platform where Obi-Wan had disappeared.  He tested it, then climbed up.

 

Obi-Wan was racing down the hallway with the long-armed creature when Qui-Gon leapt over the railing and the grin the boy sent his way was the best thing Qui-Gon had seen all week.

 

"I hoped you would come," Obi-Wan said warmly.

 

Qui-Gon nodded, ignoring the choice of words for the moment.  "Almost too late.  Hurry."

 

"This is Guerra," Obi-Wan introduced, pointing to his rescuer.

 

"Bring him.  The guards are coming," Qui-Gon said urgently.  "They saw what happened."  He pulled up short momentarily, eyeing the Force-illusion around the Phindian’s collar.  “Is that-”

 

Obi-Wan waved a hand and the illusion dropped.  “Already shut it off.  Let’s go.”

 

Qui-Gon reached out and snagged the boy by the back of his tunic, concentrating the Force on Obi-Wan's collar.  He sent neutral energy to the transmitter before shooting him a stern but exasperated look.

 

Obi-Wan blinked sheepishly.  “Forgot.”

 

Qui-Gon just sighed and shook his head.  "We'll have to find a way to remove it on the mainland."

 

"That's where the transmission signal is," Guerra explained.  "The guards in the security office on the Bandor loading dock carry the transmitter."

 

All three suddenly wheeled around when the lift opened and blaster fire zinged past his ear.

 

"You'll be needing this," Qui-Gon said to Obi-Wan and tossed him his lightsaber.

 

Two lightsabers hummed in unison as they turned to face the guards.  The four Imbats hesitated.  They had never seen such weapons, but, still infuriated at Obi-Wan's escape, they rushed forward.

 

Qui-Gon leapt onto the railing, somersaulted in the air, and landed behind them.  Obi-Wan charged from the front.  They moved in a graceful duet, advancing, retreating, forcing the guards back toward the lift tube and deflecting blaster fire with ease.  It was moments like this that Qui-Gon wondered what he had been thinking when he had decided to leave Obi-Wan behind.

 

"More guards coming, Obawan!"  Guerra yelled.

 

Fifteen guards shot out of the stairwell at the far end of the platform, firing as they ran.

 

"Time to go," Qui-Gon called out.  Obi-Wan sent his agreement through their bond but spun on his heel and threw out his hand, redirecting blaster fire away from Guerra’s unprotected back.  For a heartbeat, Qui-Gon could swear Obi-Wan’s eyes flashed a brilliant gold.

 

“Here!”  Obi-Wan bounded over to Guerra and pressed a blaster into his hand.  Up the stairwell.  And hide.  In an hour, your collar will be deactivated for good.  Trust me."

 

Guerra considered Obi-Wan for a long moment before heading for the stairs.  “I trust no one,” He called back but bared his yellow teeth in a wide grin.  “Not so, Obawan!  I trust you!”

 

Qui-Gon watched Obi-Wan flash an answering grin over his shoulder before vaulting over the fallen guards.  He climbed onto the rail and jumped towards the rope, sliding down and landing in the hydrocraft.

 

What was it about the boy, Qui-Gon mused as he followed, that drew people in left, right, and center?

 

Himself included.

 

***WotF***

 

      As soon as they were out of reach of blaster fire, Qui-Gon set a course for Bandor.  Obi-Wan sat at his side, looking ahead and chest still heaving with exertion. He looked just as tired as when Qui-Gon had left him a week ago, maybe more so.

 

      "You said you hoped I would come," Qui-Gon remarked quietly, not quite sure why he was following this line of thought in the first place.  "Not knew, but hoped."

 

      Obi-Wan turned to look at him, his eyes soft grey with lassitude but still alert.  “Everyone has a choice,” He said quietly.  “You could’ve chosen not to come.”

 

      “And why wouldn’t I?”  Qui-Gon challenged, voice going flat.

 

      “Xanatos,” Obi-Wan said, almost as if he was musing to himself now.  “He’s the deciding factor, isn’t he?”

 

      Qui-Gon inclined his head.  “I heard you bumped into him.”

 

      “In a manner of speaking,” Obi-Wan agreed wryly, before admitting, “I may have underestimated him.  ...And overestimated myself.”

 

      Qui-Gon studied the embarrassment etched on the twelve-year-old’s face along with the spike of shame that ran along their bond.

 

      “Well, at least you’re modest enough to admit it,” He pointed out mildly.  “Xanatos can be arrogant, but he is also exceptionally clever.”

 

      Obi-Wan nodded contritely, leaning back against the side of the boat with a slight frown.

 

      Almost tentatively, Qui-Gon ventured, “You exchanged words before you fought.  Xanatos seemed infuriated by what you said.”

 

      Obi-Wan actually flushed red at that.  “Ah, he mentioned that?”

 

      “In a butchered attempt at imitating your voice, yes,” Qui-Gon confirmed.

 

      Obi-Wan coughed, shifting uncomfortably.  “I’ve already told you I want to become your Padawan,” He muttered quietly as if that clarified everything.

 

      “And why would you want to do that?”  Qui-Gon found himself asking.  “I’m sure Xanatos’ recount of me wasn’t kind.”

 

      "He told me you betrayed him,” Obi-Wan revealed placidly.  “That he was your apprentice, and he trusted you, but you destroyed that trust in the end."

 

      Qui-Gon twisted around and observed the young face beside him, not a single hint of doubt shadowing its features.  “I assume you didn’t believe him?”

 

      Obi-Wan shrugged, plucking at the sleeve of his tunic.  “You don’t seem like the type to betray a Padawan,” He said.  “And it seemed rather redundant to mistrust you after everything we went through on the _Monument_ and the island just because someone I don’t even really know decided to make his own opinion of you known.”

 

      Qui-Gon stared at him.  “You have a rather odd outlook on life, Obi-Wan.”

 

      To his surprise, the boy actually spluttered a laugh that didn’t quite reach his eyes.  “You have no idea, Master.”

 

      Qui-Gon wanted to question this statement but Obi-Wan had already glanced away and the shore was coming up.  If he was going to clear things about Xanatos with Obi-Wan, it had to be now.

 

      “Obi-Wan, I think I should tell you about Xanatos,” Qui-Gon started.  “You should know about him now that you're involved in this.  I should have told you before.”

 

      Obi-Wan turned back, attentive but unruffled as Qui-Gon told him of his former Padawan.  He recounted the young boy he had brought to the Temple, intelligent with the qualities of a leader.  He described Yoda’s hesitations, the old Master’s misgivings that Qui-Gon had mistaken for lack of confidence in his own judgement.  And how glad he had been when Yoda had suggested one last mission for Xanatos, that Qui-Gon would finally be able to prove to Yoda that he had been right about Xanatos.

 

      "You see my failing here."  Qui-Gon stated gravely, watching as Obi-Wan nodded, eyes compassionate and lacking of judgement.

 

      Qui-Gon continued, relaying Telos and Xanatos’ father, Crion, the power Xanatos saw his father wielding, and the resulting anger against the Jedi and Qui-Gon for taking him away and depriving him of a different kind of power.

 

"I did not doubt Yoda's wisdom,” Qui-Gon sighed, staring out at the surrounding gloom.  “I did what I knew I should.  I stepped back.  I did not attempt to guide Xanatos.  He was ready to make his own choice."

 

"He made the wrong one," Obi-Wan said softly, cutting to the crux of the matter.

 

Qui-Gon inclined his head and described the civil war that followed, the army Xanatos led, and the last battle fought at the governor’s quarters where Crion was killed.

 

"I killed him," He said solemnly, craning his head around to gauge Obi-Wan’s expression.  "In front of his son, I dealt the killing blow.  My lightsaber sliced through the ring on Crion's finger.  As he lay dying, Xanatos picked it up from the fire where it had fallen.  He pressed the hot metal to his cheek.  I can still hear the sound of the burn. You can still see the scar."

 

"A broken circle," Obi-Wan said, still unsurprised.  A part of Qui-Gon wondered if he had already known all this.  Yet that was impossible.  Xanatos would not have told and no one else knew of these events in detail.

 

“Do you see my failing, Obi-Wan?”  Qui-Gon asked this time, gaze heavy.  “Do you still wish to be my Padawan after all that?”

 

Obi-Wan’s eyes sharpened, melting into the blue-green they usually were.  “Of course,” He said sharply.  “Maybe you could’ve been more attentive, seen Xanatos’ faults instead of ignored them, but only Xanatos can make Xanatos’ decisions.  You can only guide him to the best of your ability.  In the end, he’s the one who has to choose.”

 

Qui-Gon looked intently at the twelve-year-old sitting serenely at his side before turning back to face the front, relaxing as the silence became more companionable than oppressive.

 

Only one thought occurred to him at this point: Yoda was going to have a field day when they got home.

 

***WotF***

 

      "Guerra is free," Qui-Gon said as he pressed the button on the transmitter.  "Now let's see if we can get that collar off.”

 

Qui-Gon placed his large hands around Obi-Wan’s collar, searching for a catch or seam.  He could not break the collar, or twist it apart.  He set his lightsaber to low power and tried to cut it, but could not.

 

"I need a high power, and that would injure you,” He said grimly.

 

"Or behead me," Obi-Wan pointed out cheerfully.

 

Qui-Gon smiled dryly down at the boy.  “I’m starting to realize you have a morbid sense of humour, Obi-Wan.”

 

“About time, Master,” Obi-Wan shot back without missing a beat.

 

Qui-Gon sighed and shook his head, tossing the transmitter to him.  “Better hold onto that until it’s off then.  Now let’s get back to Bandor.”

 

“And Xanatos,” Obi-Wan added.  It wasn’t a question.

 

“And Xanatos,” Qui-Gon agreed as they clambered into an Offworld security landspeeder.

 

***WotF***

 

      Dirt and gravel flew in their faces as Qui-Gon swerved, dived, reversed, and hung stationary, all to evade the deadly laser cannon Xanatos was aiming at them.  He roared into the yard of the Home Planet Mine, but no one was there to help.  Everyone was in the mine, working to repair it.  There was no time to call VeerTa or Clat'Ha.  Behind them, they could hear Xanatos approaching.

 

      Qui-Gon jumped out of the landspeeder, calling on Obi-Wan to do the same.

 

Xanatos headed for Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan at top speed.  Qui-Gon unsheathed his lightsaber and dealt Xanatos a glancing blow ah he sped past, but the impact sent Qui-Gon spinning backward, and he felt his shoulder wrench in pain.  Almost immediately, he felt the Force swirl around the injury, but Qui-Gon glanced back sharply.

 

“Save your energy,” He warned, waiting until Obi-Wan reluctantly retracted the Force.  “You’ll need it later.”

 

They could not fight Xanatos while he was on that vehicle, and when Xanatos turned and roared back towards them, they had no choice but to dash into the mine entrance.

 

As they did, Qui-Gon had a sudden flash of chilling knowledge.  They were doing exactly what Xanatos had planned for them to do.  They were playing his game.

 

      “This way, Master!”  Obi-Wan sprinted on ahead, never even giving the other tunnels a passing glance.  Qui-Gon hesitated only briefly before following, the Force humming its agreement in his mind.  There was another lift tube at Core 6 and it would take them around Xanatos.

 

      The lift tube stood at the end of the tunnel.  They jumped in and Qui-Gon pressed the number of the deepest level, Core 6, with only a cursory glance at Obi-Wan.

 

      “How did you know?”  Qui-Gon enquired, his mind backtracking through the last few days.  “How do you know these things?”

 

      “Prescience,” Obi-Wan said, but his gaze evaded Qui-Gon’s.  “I get flashes of the future.”

 

      There was no more time to question the boy as the doors opened and they stepped out into the tunnel.  They both turned to the left but Obi-Wan seemed to be looking for something specific.

 

      “Obi-Wan?”

 

      “Did Si mention the box to you?”

 

      Qui-Gon frowned.  “Yes, the one with Xanatos’ mark on it.”

 

      Obi-Wan nodded distractedly.  “There was one on the deep sea mine as well, and another in the Eastern Environmental Dome.  I’m pretty sure they're bombs.”

 

      Qui-Gon’s blood ran cold but before he could think more on it, the dark stretch of the tunnel made him pause.

 

      He peered ahead.  "VeerTa said this tunnel was completely blocked.  Why-"

 

Suddenly, a shadow detached from the wall of the tunnel, and Xanatos stood before them.

 

"You make so many mistakes, Qui-Gon," He said, mouth twisting into a cold smile.  "It's a wonder you're still standing.  First you deactivate the transmitter so that I'll know exactly where you are.  Then you enter this mine, which is exactly what I wanted you to do.  And then you assume that I don't know about the north lift tube."

 

Behind him, Qui-Gon heard the hum of Obi-Wan’s lightsaber.

 

"Which one of you shall I kill first?"  Xanatos murmured, but his eyes were foucsed behind Qui-Gon.  "You, or your new Padawan?  He won’t get lucky again, I assure you."

 

Obi-Wan lunged forward fiercely.  He leaped onto a mining cart, which rolled toward Xanatos, but at the last moment, Obi-Wan sprang off.  He flew over Xanatos' head, striking down with his lightsaber as he did so.

 

Qui-Gon heard the flesh on Xanatos' hand sizzle.  Howling, Xanatos almost dropped his lightsaber, but caught it with his other hand.

 

Obi-Wan landed safely behind Xanatos. "Then I suppose it’s just skill this time," He pointed out gleefully, much to Qui-Gon’s exasperation.

 

Whirling so quickly Qui-Gon barely caught the movement, Xanatos sprang at Obi-Wan.  The boy leaped back, slashing with his lightsaber at the same time.

 

Xanatos' attack missed him by a whisper.  Qui-Gon was already charging forward, and Xanatos turned to parry the thrust.  Their lightsabers tangled and locked, sputtering.  Smoke rose in the tunnel.

 

Xanatos withdrew, leaping past Obi-Wan, and the two Jedi pursued him down the tunnel.  The floor beneath them sloped sharply, and Qui-Gon realized that they were descending to a lower level.

 

“What did I say about overconfidence?”  Qui-Gon reprimanded as they ran.  “Didn't you learn your lesson the first time around?”

 

Obi-Wan turned an indignant look on him.  “Master, he _clubbed_ me over the head after he called me a waste of space.  Wastes of space don’t give him ’saber burns.”

 

Qui-Gon sighed but didn’t waste breath to reproach him.  He had seen enough of the boy to realize that Obi-Wan knew how to balance maturity with a child’s brashness.

 

Turning a corner, they just had time to see Xanatos disappear into a smaller corridor that led off the shaft.  They hurried forward.  The crosscut tunnel was narrow and dark and the glow lights here were set at a fainter setting.  The ground dropped sharply downward.  Xanatos was gone.

 

“He will want us to follow,” Obi-Wan warned as they paused at the entrance.

 

"It's too late now," Qui-Gon decided.  “He has chosen the field of battle, true, but we can defeat him."

 

Qui-Gon turned and ran down the tunnel after Xanatos.  Obi-Wan following close behind.

 

They were deep in the planet's crust by now, close to the core.  The heat was intense.  Qui-Gon saw a faint sign glowing ahead.

 

Core 5.

 

VeerTa had lied to him.  Or else she had not known this tunnel existed.

 

The tunnel opened out into a slightly wider one.  The glow lights were brighter here.  Immediately after they left the smaller tunnel, a hidden panel slid shut behind them.

 

They were trapped.

 

Then the lights went out.

 

The mocking voice came from out of the void.  "I hope the two of you have time for a Temple exercise."  Suddenly, in the darkness, the red glow of a lightsaber extended.

 

Qui-Gon didn't wait for Xanatos to strike.  He moved through the blackness towards the glow.  He could not see but he let the Force guide him.  He could feel his opponent, feel the dark tremors of his evil, and he struck.

 

"Missed me," Xanatos said. "I was always best at the blindfold test.  Remember?"

 

Obi-Wan moved off to the right, but instead of approaching in a classic pincer movement, Qui-Gon could feel the boy gathering the Force around him, reeling it in until it settled like a cloak around Obi-Wan, tightly reigned and ready to be released.

 

_‘I can drag him out but I’ll only be able to hold him for a moment.  Ready, Master?'_

 

Qui-Gon hesitated.  Would the boy have enough strength for something like that?  Well, if the thinly-veiled Light almost glowing around Obi-Wan was anything to go by, then yes he did, but Qui-Gon didn't like the heavy strain he could feel from the boy through their bond.  Still, this could be the only chance they had.

 

 _‘Alright,’_ Qui-Gon sent back grimly.  _‘Give me a two-second window.’_

 

_‘Yes, Master.  And Master?’_

 

_‘What?’_

 

_‘Try not to worry too much after this.  I’ll just be a little tired.’_

 

That sounded alarmingly ominous to Qui-Gon but he had no time to ask further when Obi-Wan leapt forward and released the Force with everything he had, hurling the energy towards the darkness, and Qui-Gon caught a flash of shock on Xanatos’ face as the Force struck, Light wrapping around the tendrils of Dark wreathing his former apprentice and dragging him out of hiding.

 

Qui-Gon didn’t waste time admiring Obi-Wan’s control.  He lunged forward, lightsaber twirling, and slammed the butt of it against his former apprentice’s head, hard enough to knock him out for a good long while.

 

Xanatos didn’t see it coming and he crumpled to the ground, his ’saber clattering uselessly away as the lights blinked back on.

 

Qui-Gon had a heartbeat to breathe a sigh of relief before the screaming started.

 

Spinning around as his heart leapt into his throat, he hurried over to Obi-Wan, now curled into a fetal position with his hand clasped around his head and fingers clenched tightly in his hair, and dropped to his knees, hands hovering helplessly over the prone figure.

 

“Obi-Wan?”  He called, and then tried reaching the boy mentally, but flinched back when all he met were the reinforced shields now firmly erected around Obi-Wan’s mind.

 

 _What do I do?_   He wracked his mind frantically, gathering Obi-Wan in his arms as the boy screamed his throat raw.  Obi-Wan had said not to worry but how was Qui-Gon not supposed to do exactly that?

 

_Had he known this would happen?  Had he been expecting this?  Had he known and done it anyway to help Qui-Gon take down Xanatos?_

 

As abruptly as the screams had started, they suddenly cut off, and for one heart-stopping moment, Qui-Gon thought the boy had died.

 

But no, Obi-Wan’s chest still stirred with faint puffs of breath, and while the boy was limp in his arms, his body was still warm.

 

 _‘Obi-Wan?’_   Qui-Gon prodded uncertainly, brushing the boy’s hair back in an instinctive soothing gesture.  _‘Padawan?’_

 

Nothing.  The bond was as silent as the grave and Qui-Gon had to work to push the first stirrings of fear back down, settling his mind with a deep breath.

 

There was nothing he could do right now.  His best option was to get them all out of here as soon as possible.

 

And hadn’t Obi-Wan mentioned something about a bomb?

 

With a mental curse, Qui-Gon swept up all three ’sabers, tucking them away before scooping Obi-Wan up, being careful not to jostle him as much as possible.  His gaze fell on Xanatos, and for once, all Qui-Gon felt was a deep sense of pity and mild sorrow, but none of the guilt and regret and anger that had dragged him down for so many years.  He had other things to worry about now, more important things to take care of.

 

He placed Xanatos in a Force-sleep before binding his hands and legs for good measure and then lifting him in the air so he would float beside Qui-Gon as they moved.

 

And then he headed back the way they had come, but the entrance was still sealed.  He knew he could escape through the lift tube that Xanatos had been planning to use but if there was a bomb here, he had to find it before it blew.

 

Placing Obi-Wan down and wrapping the boy up with his own robe, Qui-Gon looked around and crossed over to the panel next to the door.  Several buttons glowed but nothing happened when he pressed them.

 

Reeling in his frustration, Qui-Gon glanced back at Obi-Wan.  The boy was so still and he seemed even paler in the dim light.

 

Turning back, he noticed the Offworld secret logo on the seal panel.

 

One of the nightmares he had had before this entire debacle started came to the forefront of his thoughts.

 

The circle that brings the past to the future, yet does not meet.  He must make the circle meet.  He must bring the past forward.  He must...

 

Qui-Gon quieted his mind, letting the Force fill him.  Cautiously, he drew from what little remained of Obi-Wan's power as well, just a drop, and concentrated on the broken circle.  He envisioned the circle moving, meeting, becoming whole once more.  The past would meet the future and create the present.  That was what mattered.

 

Xanatos was past.

 

Obi-Wan was now.

 

Slowly, the separate strands moved, making a perfect circle.

 

And the door slid open.

 

***WotF***

 

      Racing back up the tunnel, Qui-Gon ignored the irritatingly calm voice that told him to evacuate.  Tightening his hold on Obi-Wan, he scanned the boxes of explosives stacked against the walls, attention settling on one box resting on top.

 

      Placing Obi-Wan down again, Qui-Gon unsheathed his lightsaber and, with great precision, cut the lock on it.

 

      "You always did have more than one trick," He murmured, sparing a glance back at his former Padawan.  "You always had a back door."

 

He lifted the lid carefully.  Just as Obi-Wan had guessed, it was an ion bomb, the most destructive explosive in the galaxy.

 

      There was a bomb in the Eastern Zone as well as the deep sea mine.  Qui-Gon was willing to bet that there were more stashed all over Bandomeer, and if this was set off, the chain reaction would destroy the entire planet.

 

      He frowned and examined the clock.  Odd.  The numbers counted down to the second but they were off.  There was still seven minutes but the seconds slipped by much more slowly.  Had Xanatos made a mistake or had someone tampered with it?

 

      Either way, he would have time to disable it and that was what mattered.

 

***WotF***

 

      Eight hours later, Qui-Gon finally stumbled back to his temporary quarters.  He had revealed the entire ploy to Clat’Ha and SonTag, learned that ionite had a neutral charge and made instruments stop, gotten VeerTa arrested for aiding and abetting, received the message that Guerra and the rest of the miners were free, gotten his hands on a Force Inhibitor and shackled Xanatos with it before leaving him in a Force-sleep with a twenty-four-hour guard, and was currently in the process of tackling his last and most important problem.

 

      He had tried to wake Obi-Wan earlier, ignoring even SonTag’s questions in favour of getting the boy to a bed before contacting Yoda.  There were no healers for Jedi on Bandomeer and his best bet would be the old Master.

 

      Unfortunately for him, the troll had been maddeningly unhelpful.  Yoda had looked so grave upon hearing of Obi-Wan’s condition that Qui-Gon had had half a mind to simply drop everything and return to Coruscant at once, but Yoda had only shook his head and told Qui-Gon to let the boy rest.  The order had floored him and he had tried to argue, but Yoda had been adamant and had seemed very certain of Obi-Wan’s eventual recovery so, in the end, Qui-Gon had grudgingly backed down.

 

      Now, in the privacy of his quarters, Qui-Gon settled wearily next to the still-unconscious twelve-year-old and tried to reach him through their bond again.  It had worked last time and it was the only thing he could think of that might help.

 

      _‘Obi-Wan, you must wake up,’_ Qui-Gon chanted as he had several dozen times already.  _‘How do you expect to become a Jedi if you’re sleeping all day?’_

 

      Qui-Gon paused.  He had already made up his mind, perhaps even as far back as before he had reached the deep sea mine, moments before Obi-Wan had jumped.  He remembered the unwavering loyalty Obi-Wan had shown, the trust he had given, time and time again, on the _Monument_ against the pirates, on the island against the draigons, on Bandomeer against Offworld, and always with Qui-Gon against Xanatos.

 

 _‘Wake up, Padawan,’_ He pleaded quietly.  _‘I need you to wake up for me.’_

 

      _‘...Can’t keep my Master waiting then, can I?’_

 

      Qui-Gon almost slipped off his chair at the faint but definitely amused voice snaking back along their bond.  The mental link shone as the strongest shields in Obi-Wan’s mind slipped away and the whisper of stray thoughts echoed back to Qui-Gon.

 

      _‘You're awake, thank the Force!’_   Qui-Gon slumped back, relief draining him of the last of his energy.  _‘Padawan,_ _I order you to_ never _do something like this again.’_

 

      “Don’t think I can promise that, Master,” Obi-Wan’s voice was thin with exhaustion but his eyes were open and staring steadily back at Qui-Gon.

 

      Qui-Gon leaned forward, not bothering to hide his smile.  “Then at least warn me before you go around collapsing for no discernible reason.”

 

      “I did warn you,” Obi-Wan protested weakly.  “I specifically told you not to worry.”

 

      Qui-Gon raised a skeptical eyebrow.  “How exactly do you expect me to do that when you were screaming at the top of your lungs?”

 

      Obi-Wan frowned.  “Oh, well that would explain why my throat is sore.”

 

      Qui-Gon grabbed a bottle and helped the boy drink for the second time in a week.

 

      “Why _did_ you collapse?”  He asked, tone measured.

 

      Obi-Wan stilled, head tilting back to stare at the ceiling.  “What did Master Yoda say?”

 

      “His usual cryptic sermon,” Qui-Gon replied with uncharacteristic annoyance.  “And I suppose it would be pointless to ask how you know I contacted Master Yoda?”

 

      Obi-Wan didn’t retort with his usual sarcastic wit or even an apology.  Instead, he picked at a loose thread on the blanket that covered him, gaze turning inward in a way that Qui-Gon was starting to hate.  Wherever Obi-Wan went when his expression became distant, whatever he was seeing, affected him more than Qui-Gon liked, and he couldn’t follow his Padawan in these moments.

 

      “He mentioned you had a powerful sense of prescience,” Qui-Gon started again, softening his tone.  “Unrivalled by even him, but that it was better not to ask.”

 

      Obi-Wan’s shoulders tensed as his fingers ran along the edge of the blanket.  “I can’t tell you everything,” He said, and Qui-Gon felt his heart clench at the mournful tone his voice had taken on.  “Not for awhile.”

 

      He turned a sad smile on Qui-Gon.  “That’s going to affect any relationship we have, isn’t it?”

 

      Qui-Gon stared back, silent for several breaths as he watched his Padawan mentally withdraw into himself.

 

      “I think,” He said at last, keeping his voice light.  “After everything that’s happened, and Yoda’s agreement on this matter, trusting you isn’t going to be as hard as it could be under any other circumstances.”

 

      The light slowly returned to Obi-Wan’s eyes as the boy searched his face for any sign of deceit.

 

      “‘Padawan’?”  Obi-Wan finally queried, the beginnings of a genuine smile playing on his lips.

 

      “You did say you wanted to become my Padawan,” Qui-Gon reminded.  “That hasn’t changed, I hope?”

 

      Obi-Wan’s expression was brilliant as Qui-Gon received a vehement denial in return.

 

***WotF***

 

      Qui-Gon had refused to let him do any heavy-lifting in case he collapsed again so Obi-Wan was forced to sit tight on their ride home as Qui-Gon triple-checked every safety measure placed on Xanatos.  His Master wasn’t taking any chances.

 

      The other world had literally exploded in a tidal wave of gold as soon as Xanatos had been caught and Obi-Wan had been swept away with it, tumbling through futures that would now never come to be and futures newly created.

 

      Telos would remain safe from Xanatos’ greed and revenge, and Bruck Chun would most likely not turn – that was still to be decided.  Bant would be safe from both their clutches and Xanatos would never be able to harm anyone in the Jedi Temple anymore.

 

      On the other hand, Xanatos was still alive.  He had not committed suicide nor had he been killed by Qui-Gon, which were the most likely outcomes prior to this change.

 

      Changes.  Choices.  Everything always came down to choice.

 

      To be completely truthful, Obi-Wan had expected Qui-Gon to deal a fatal blow back in the mine when he had dragged Xanatos out.  It had been the most probable conclusion in that instance; the golden thread leading down that path had been almost blinding in its intensity.

 

      Yet it hadn’t happened.  Qui-Gon, for whatever reason or no reason at all, hadn’t killed Xanatos and they were now bringing him in to stand trial before placing him in prison.  There were several futures where Xanatos would escape, but just as many where he wouldn’t, and Obi-Wan wasn’t sure what to make of it all.

 

      “Obi-Wan?”

 

      Obi-Wan looked up, already smiling as his Master sat down beside him and the ship prepared for takeoff.

 

      “Don't think too hard, Padawan,” Qui-Gon teased.  “You might hurt yourself and I don’t want to be carrying you into Coruscant when we arrive.”

 

      Obi-Wan scowled good-naturedly but relaxed into a grin soon enough.  “Of course not, Master.  We both know I’m the one who’s going to have to help you off this ship after all the running around you've been doing.  Bad back and all that, right?”

 

      A hand came down on his head, firm but gentle as it tugged on the beginnings of his Padawan braid.

 

      “Are you calling me old, Padawan?”  Qui-Gon demanded, mouth twitching.

 

      “I wouldn’t dare, Master,” Obi-Wan retorted, straight-faced.  “I wouldn’t want to put your sensitive self-esteem at risk.”

 

      Qui-Gon stared in disbelief before shaking his head.  “Rude brat,” He muttered, but there was a note of fondness in his voice that several dozen other Obi-Wans in several dozen other futures would never have heard for years to come.

 

      _We’re going to be alright,_ Obi-Wan thought as he relaxed against his Master.  _Come hell or high water, we’re going to be fine._

 

**Finished!  So that’s my take on Bandomeer.  I thought this chapter was a good example of how Obi-Wan can still make mistakes even with his gift, and that sometimes – Xanatos being the case in point – he can depend too much on it.**


End file.
